Next Time We'll Adopt! Tess2645Kdoc27
by kdoc27
Summary: While trying to decide which adoption agency to try next, Marco and Dylan get an offer to try a new procedure that would allow one of them to carry and deliver their own child. mpreg
1. Chapter 1

Story by:Tess2645/Kdoc27

Dylan stopped himself from biting his thumbnail...again.  
They'd (physically) removed him from the delivery-room after he slammed one of the doctors against a wall.  
Dylan knew that some of the doctors present were only there to observe, but at that moment, with Marco in that much pain... he just...lost it!

Actually by the time the four large orderlies(who had pry his fingers loose from the doctor's shirt) were called in, the doctor, who was only there to advise and observe, had become really alarmed.  
At first Dylan had dragged the shocked man over to the bed with him(after slamming him into the wall and demanding that he 'do something!'), then flung him to the floor, almost as an after-thought; just getting something out of his hand so he could hold Marco's hand with both of his.

There'd just been so much blood...

He'd been holding Marco's hand, just as he had all the way there in the ambulance...  
Once they'd gotten him into a bed, first removing the somewhat complicated brace that helped him balance and carry the awkward weight,( which his body and nervous system had never been intended to handle),Dylan thought venomously, Marco had seemed fine.

As badly as Dylan wanted this to be over, he was hopping it was just another small glitch, another false alarm.  
Marco had just a little over six more weeks to go. He looked better than he had in a while, what with one thing and another.

The mood swings had become less frequent, and so had the sudden bursts of temper...or so Dylan had thought...

They'd been in their living-room, watching some footage from one of the last games that Dylan had played before he'd had to stop, to be able to spend more time at home with his expecting husband.  
Marco had tried to get him to keep on playing; told him he really shouldn't worry about it, that he could handle it, and if he needed help, they could always get a nurse, or a housekeeper to be there when Dylan had to be away.

Glancing away from the screen, Dylan noticed Marco staring off into space, a gentle, somewhat speculative smile on his face.  
"Hey, What?" Dylan asked, gently tugging on a long soft curl.  
Groaning a little as he sat up, Marco said, "I'm thinking of a sandwich."  
"Oh, let me, just tell me what you want on it."  
Lifting himself carefully, and with what seemed to Dylan like a lot of work, Marco got up; rolling his eyes as he replied, "I can make my own sandwich, I'm not helpless you know."  
"Marco, I didn't say you were helpless. You know I want to help, thats what taking a job that doesn't keep me traveling all the time was all about, so I could be here... to help."  
"Yeah, and you recall I didn't want you to!" Marco fumed, his fingers curling into fists.  
Dylan, who'd been getting up to follow, stopped as Marco turned, pointing at him, his other hand pressed against the growing bulge that was their daughter. "Just sit there, don't even think about following me!"

Raising his hands in surrender, Dylan sat back down; not wanting to do anything to set him off.  
'Jesus!', he thought, 'I'll be glad when this is over.'  
So he'd gone back to watching the film.

Ten minutes later, unable to even pretend to be paying attention to the film, Dylan got up from the couch.  
He'd let Marco yell at him, it didn't take that long to fix a sandwich, and besides, he usually banged things around when he was angry...it was just too quiet.

The refrigerator door was open; the mayo sat unopened on the counter...  
Coming around the kitchen-island, he saw...  
"Marco!"  
He was on the floor, curled on his side. He held his rosary in one hand, while the other moved slowly over his swollen belly.  
Dylan was running, falling to the floor beside him and scooping him into his arms before thinking whether he might hurt him or not.  
"Baby, what happened!" Dylan whispered, almost fearfully.  
Marco's eyes opened then, the expression in them one of unease, but also...certainty.  
Looking up at Dylan he said, barely above a whisper, "I think it's time."

In the emergency room, Dylan had to let go of Marco's hand while the brace was removed, and a few hurried tests were made and fluids drawn.  
While they awaited the results, Marco tried to act calm, though the look in his restless eyes said he was anything but.  
Dylan, holding his husbands hand again, massaging the back of it with his thumb, tried, again, to apologize for upsetting him so badly...

"Baby, I'm so sorry I..." he began, but Marco, blushing in embarrassment cut him off.  
"It's not your fault...I...I felt...something but..."  
"What ?" Dylan asked when the barely audible mumbling trailed into silence.  
Marco pulled him down so he could lay a hand against his(Dylan's)worried face.  
"I felt...I don't know an odd sort of...pressure...not...just a sort of ... I don't know, I thought it was...just maybe I needed to eat something. You've already given up so much to be able to spent time with me...us. And you do so much for me all the time...even when I fuss and worry so much...  
"Marco I love you! I love it when theres something I can do to help. And...well...you always 'fuss and worry', especially if you need help with something." Dylan smiled a little as he said this.  
"My lovely, brilliant, funny, wonderful, kind, considerate, terribly stubborn husband! We knew this would be...well, complicated from the word go, but after everything we've gotten through, I'm sure we can get through this. You want to know why?"  
Marco, really listening to him now, felt himself grow calmer. He always did once he decided to let Dylan help him with something, no matter what it was. That had never changed...  
Able to smile a little now, Marco asked, "Why?"  
Dylan threaded the fingers of his left hand through Marco's, so that their wedding rings lay side by side,"My ring on your finger says I never have to let go, and I won't! 'In sickness and in health, till death do us part'" he quoted. "You're stuck with me!"  
Dylan leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Marco's smiling lips."O.k.?" he asked, drawing back briefly.  
"O.k." Marco replied, blinking away unshed tears.  
"It didn't say 'in morning-sickness and in health!'" Marco mumbled, glancing away for a second.  
"Excuse me?" Dylan asked, grinning at him with his lips an inch above Marco's own.  
"I said, 'Thank you sir, may I have another'!" Marco whispered, his still tear-bright eyes now locked on Dylan's as he drew him down to finish their kiss.

A doctor, not their regular one, entered then, and began explaining that the test results so far seemed to indicate that their child would need to be delivered in the next few hours...

The epidural they'd given Marco should have made him unable to feel anything from the waist down by now, at least that was what the anesthesiologist had said.

The lower half of Marco's body was only visible to him via a mirror that hung from the ceiling.  
There were doctors and nurses on each side of the screened apart sections of his body.  
Now that the pains had subsided to a dull ache, he could look as the doctors prepared to make the incision.

With Dylan beside him, that big strong, warm hand holding on to one of his own, his rosary in the other: in spite of the suddenness of it all, he felt ready.

Dylan brushed the hair out of Marco's eyes, fingers trailing down to cup the side of his face.  
"I love you ." Dylan said softly, as he stared into his husbands lovely dark eyes, proud of the lack of fear, or even real nervousness there.  
"Love you too." Marco whispered, gazing lovingly up at him, before returning his eyes to the mirror.

Dr Levinson, who was performing the delivery, called for stats from each station. The leader of each team answered with their various read-outs .  
You could tell he was smiling behind his surgical mask, as he leaned over so Marco could see him in the mirror.  
"Ready Marco?"  
Marco glanced up at Dylan, took a deep breath...let it out slowly and smiled."Let's do it, I can't wait to meet her!"

The doctor called for a scalpel.  
A nurse slapped one into his hand.  
He began the incision...

Suddenly, Marco's body stiffened, and the hand that had only been holding Dylan's tightly, gripped so hard that his fingers went numb!  
Marco's teeth clenched, and his head snapped back, the tendons standing out in his neck as sweat began to pour from him. Dylan saw the hospital gown grow a darker green before his frightened eyes!  
"Marco! What...!"  
Monitors all over the room began to beep and buzz.

"Marco?" Dylan cried!  
Marco was breathing harshly through clenched teeth. His eyes flashed open; glared into the mirror where a thin line of blood ran down his belly from where the doctor had cut him.

Dylan was told by a nurse(she was pushing him back as she spoke) that he needed to step back for a moment.  
There were shouts about 'fetal heartbeat', and other 'vitals' of both Marco and the baby's.

They got the bleeding stopped, and Dr. Levinson told Dylan they were going to try another injection.

Dylan was already stepping forward, his hand reaching for Marco's when he thought to look at the nurse for permission. She smiled, and nodded at him.

Taking Marco's hand, he bent to kiss his forehead."I knew it!" he whispered; trying to sound disgusted.  
Marco, frowning, lifted an eyebrow at him. "What?" he half-growled.  
"That stubbornness, it goes all the way to the bone!"  
Marco rolled his eyes ...but smiled a little as he kissed the back of his hand before whispering back; "Shut up!"

In a few minuter Dr. Levinson was checking Marco again to see if the anesthetic was working properly this time.  
He called for a check of vitals again, asked if Marco was ready again.

Marco and Dylan were looking into each others eyes.  
When Marco's eyes widened and his hand tightened on Dylan's again, his face crumpling in pain...  
Dylan whispered"F#k!", though he didn't realize it, and he looked up into the mirror.  
There was blood everywhere...

Dylan turned, grabbed Dr. Lenski by his gown.  
"You don't even look surprised. You expected this!"  
Slamming the man against the wall when he said nothing, Dylan yelled into his face "Do something!"

Before Lenski could answer him, Marco whimpered his name...  
Turning back, dragging Lenski with him, he picked up Marco's limp hand from where it hung lifelessly off the bed.  
He was holding that hand when they moved him back again.

With a stricken look in his eyes, he just stood there for a . Lenski was getting up from the floor.  
Then Dylan spotted Marco's rosary...  
It lay on the floor on the other side of the bed.

The next thing he knew, four large men were holding him pinned to a wall, back out in the hallway.  
Marco's rosary was still in one clenched fist.

The Hockey-player-turned-coach paced back and forth in the hallway like a tiger in a cage.  
Every now and then someone else came out with trays of things, or went in to relieve someone else. Dylan tried to get information from them, but they were all rushing and would only tell him not to worry; things were going as well as could be expected.  
He thought if heard that one more time he might hurt someone!

Mrs. Micalchuk and Mrs. Del Rossi finally arrived together, with Paige and Alex following them into the special section of the hospital where this still new form of childbirth is done separately from the 'normal' ones.  
They had to be cleared by security to enter this section of the hospital; it was immediate family only, and you had to show your name-tag, which had to be passed through a machine and 'cleared' as G. I.(government issued).

Alex and Paige were of course arguing; Paige through clenched teeth, Alex rolling her eyes and smirking as usual.  
"Why did you try to pick a fight with that guard, you knew I had your name-tag?" Paige fumed.  
"Oh, c'mon babe, you know something about uniforms just sets me off, I wasn't really going to take it all way to a fight, not this soon in the game!" Alex said, the last part almost under her breath.  
"Game, game! Alex this is hardly a game. This..."  
"Paige, you know I'm just ...nervous, o.k.? Like...the threats I made when you were having our little rug-rat!"  
"How dare you refer to our daughter as a rug-rat!  
"Paige, babe, chill o.k.?" By now she'd spotted Dylan, and from the looks of his hospital gown, and the way his cap and face-mask were shoved into his back pocket, she could tell there was already trouble...

Marie-Elise reached her son first, and put her hands on either side of his face to draw it down onto her shoulder. She knew as soon as she saw him that something had gone wrong; in a situation like this, wrong could cover a lot of things...

Just then a doctor emerged from the delivery-room; he had a chart in his hand, and a wary look on his face, that intensified as he caught site of Dylan.

Mrs. Del Rossi went to him first, and he looked relieved to be able to deal with her instead of Dylan; distraught husbands always made Dr. Soames a little anxious, and after what Dylan had done to his colleague, he really didn't want to have to deal with him.

"Yes, Rossi, you son will be fine, there were just one or two minor...complications, nothing unexpected really, just, well his system is rather more resistant to pain meds than we expected, even after working with him these many months. We have everything under control now, however and we're about to move to the next stage.

Here, he stopped and looked,rather apprehensively at Dylan.  
"I must tell you that our patient.." He was cut off by a glaring Alex;  
"His NAME, is Marco."  
This was spoken with such venom, that Dr. Soames froze for a moment, and looked round to find five pairs of eyes glaring at him.  
He swallowed, had the decency to look apologetic, as he continued..

"Marco, has opted for full anesthesia."  
He looked rather shamefacedly at Dylan when he said this.  
Mrs. Del Rossi, one hand coming up, covering her mouth looked at Dylan with worried, questioning eyes.

For a moment Marco's face, eyes widened in surprise, then contorted with pain, flashed through Dylan's mind.

"Dylan?" Rosalia had come over to him, placed a hand on his arm as she looked up at him.  
"Full anesth.." Dylan stopped, swallowing, getting hold of himself a little more.  
"The epidural didn't work like...it took longer to kick in than we expected..."

Elise's hand tightened on her son's shoulder, though she said nothing, simply waiting; knowing by the look on his face, and the tension in his body...that... there was ...more...

Dylan took hold of Rosalia's hand, his other hand holding his mothers; blinking tears back, he looked at both of them: "There was an argument."..he began, and had to stoop and clear his throat.  
"We had an argument..."

By the time he finished, Father 'Mo had arrived.  
Dr. Soames came back and they were all shown into a waiting-room.

Dylan couldn't just sit there, and pacing didn't help.  
Standing up suddenly, he looked at their priest, silently begging him to understand.  
'Mo gestured for him to go ahead.

There was no one else in the shadowy quiet room.  
The candles flickered softly.  
The scent of incense lingered like a memory...

Dylan walked slowly forward...  
When he got to the railing, he knelt, resting his elbows on it.

His clasped hands pressed against his trembling lips, but the sobs were still loud in that silence...  
He whispered his one-word prayer between each sob.  
"Please...please...please...


	2. Chapter 2

Current Location:

pub. lib. Current Mood: but a little rushed! Current Music: Alan Parsons-A. Ave.(cd), Placido Domingo-La Vie En Rose

Story by Tess2645/Kdoc27

The last thing Marco remembered when he woke up with an oxygen mask attached to his face, was looking in the viewing-mirror and seeing blood everywhere.  
And pain.  
Pain that seemed to come from everywhere at once.  
He remembered calling Dylan's name...  
He must've fainted then, because the next thing he knew everyone seemed to be talking at once and...  
Dylan was ...fighting?  
With one of the doctors!

He remembered hearing say;"We're going to have to try a spinal block!"

He couldn't seem to catch his breath...  
And when had it got so cold in here?  
And what was happening to his little Rose?..

That was how he thought of her; having decided that whatever her first name might end up being, that her middle-name would be Roselisa.

They were still all arguing over her official name.  
Since Paige had donated the eggs, Alex felt she should have at least part of her wife's name.  
For once, Paige seemed content with the idea that someday they would explain it all to her niece.  
She couldn't wait to be an 'aunt' and to take the two little girls shopping!  
Dylan wanted her to have part if not all of Marco's name.  
The grand parents didn't seem to care as long as they got to baby-sit!

Someone called for whole-blood, and a nurse started asking him all sorts of questions.  
Marco finally realized they were trying to keep him awake, trying to keep him from going into shock.

The activity around his lower-half increased, and so did the traffic in and out of the room.  
The bed(operating-table, his mind whispered) was lowered, so he couldn't see in the mirror anymore, and something was injected into the IV line in his arm; there was a bag of blood (that seemed to empty very quickly) added too, along with the bag of saline.

Heavy wool blankets were tucked round his body, and round each leg, though by then his teeth were chattering, and he was having trouble concentrating on what the nurse was saying to him.  
He was soo tired, but too worried about what was happening to want to sleep!

He'd heard mothers bemoaning how long they'd carried a kid, 'only to have etc...'  
And now, here he was thinking something similar, and the kid wasn't even officially 'here' yet!

Marco smiled at this thought, but he happened to notice gloved hands replacing the empty blood-bag with another one... It stopped him, widened his eyes; he reached out and grabbed onto Nurse Smith's wrist.  
Lips trembling, eyes trying to watch what everyone was doing, Marco tried to ask a question...

"Rose?..I...Why..?" he panted out.  
Feeling his grip on hr loosening, till his fingers were only resting on her arm; she tried to get his attention: "Marco! Marco" she spoke his name sharply, trying to make eye contact.

Because she was looking at his face, she noticed when fresh sweat broke out on his brow; which seemed to grow paler before her eyes...

Marco seemed transfixed on the IV pole where another bag of blood had replaced the first two.  
'Miscarriage' he thought...just that one word..  
And for a moment his heart stopped beating.

Louder yelling...more electronic chaos from the machines!

Then he was hyperventilating; his hand gripped Nurse Smith's tightly for a second, but fell away limply as he lost consciousness...

For a time he only drifted in the quiet, painless darkness...

He saw Dylan.  
In the kitchen of their apartment in the city...  
The one they'd moved to when it was decided that he should be closer to the hospital...

He saw him look out of the window...saw/felt him jump at the flash of lightening...  
Yes, his big strong, fearless, tough as nails husband didn't like(we won't say was afraid of) storms.

It never occurred to Marco that he might be dreaming...  
When he did wonder how he could be seeing this/where was he, the darkness rose up to fill everything again...

He saw himself waking in their bed, alone, but the warm spot next to him said Dylan hadn't been gone long.

The sensation of watching himself, and Being himself was a little dizzying at first...till that feeling of being not quite alone, that he associated with ...his prayers seemed to wrap round his...body/mind?...and it was fine to just ...experience...

The lightening flashes were still distant enough not to worry Dylan much as he looked out of the window over the sink; the thunder however, was...well...  
'Maybe a rinse and stack would do for now' he decided!

Surprising his love with breakfast in bed today had turned out even better than he'd hoped!  
The look on Marco's face...  
The brightness of unshed tears in his eyes as he reached out with one finger to touch the single Daffodil...

Dylan had put the bed-tray down beside the bedroom door before peeking to see if Marco was still in bed.  
Of course not!  
The bathroom door was ajar and he heard water running.

He quickly straightened the bed, fluffing the pillows, and adding the big one Marco used when he had to stay in bed and read to pass the time; the cover he left turned back invitingly.

Marco smiled sleepily at him as he came out , and before he could wonder what Dylan was doing back in here...  
Dylan was pulling him gently to him for a good-morning kiss.  
"Hi." Dylan said as he pulled back and smiled down at him. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

Before Marco could answer him, Dylan; distracted as he often got kissing his adorable husband, kissed him again, deeply...feeling his heart flip as Marco smiled against his lips.

"I tho.." Marco began as Dylan pulled away again, but finding himself suddenly lifted into his husband's arms made him draw in a quick, surprised gasp.  
"So what, you're gonna carry me to the kitchen?" Marco sputtered out, starting to giggle. "I do weigh just a little more these days!" he finished, glancing meaningfully at his swollen belly.

Dylan grinned at him, his eyes twinkling. "Me big tough Hockey-Hunk!"  
"Oh yeah?" Marco teased, "Well, my husband is a Coach, if we get caught he'll beat you up! So we better hurry!"  
His lips covered Dylan's; they were parted in mock alarm, and the tip of Marco's tongue sliding between them made him shiver deliciously!

Marco looked up at his husband, surprise and puzzlement clear on his face as he put him back in bed, but sitting up against the big, dark blue 'reading-in-bed-pillow', as Dylan still called it.

"Dyl..wha..?" Marco began, but Dylan kissed him quickly, placed a gentle finger his lips, and winked, before going out and returning with the tray.

Dylan had put 'Dennis The Menace' on, because even though they'd watched it about a million times; Marco loved the music. Also, since around the middle of 'their' fourth month it was always in one of the dvd-players, even if they'd watched something else on that player the night before.

Dylan refused to even think about what this might mean!

At last, all of the bacon(Canadian American)hashbrowns, pancakes , and eggs was finished; they weren't kidding about the 'eating for two' part! Dylan was just glad he(Marco) could keep it all down!

Marco's other favorite, for both watching and for the music and songs was 'The Little Mermaid'.

Though if asked, Dylan would've said it was ...o.k...; only Marco knew...  
The memory of the first time they'd watched it together would always be special to both of them, but especially for Marco who was two months along, and trying to believe his doctor when he insisted that the mood swings should be over!  
Yeah...right.  
They'd both used a lot of the tissues; Dylan had hidden his smirk when Marco brought out the box, that was different shades of gold, only to find himself reaching for them, sometimes at the same time as his enchantingly sweet love.  
At the end, they'd begun to make love; slowly and sweetly as the credits ran...

Thunder had begun to rumble in the distance as kissing Marco, and lifting the tray, he whispered "I promise I won't be long."  
Marco loves storms; Dylan has learned to handle them better, but without something to distract him(preferably Marco!) they still make him...a little... edgy...

As Dylan was returning; just opening the door to their room, there was a particularly loud clap of thunder.  
The lights went out!  
"Oh, crap!" Dylan growled, thinking 'now what?', as he hesitated in the doorway; hopping they'd come back on quickly.  
"Dyl?" Marco called, starting to get up, knowing exactly how his husband felt about thunderstorms.  
"Just hang on a minute, I"ll be right back." Dylan said, heading back to the kitchen to get the emergency candles.

When he got there, he got an idea...  
Dylan went to a couple different drawers, and cabinets, and the living-room, before returning to their room with his arms full, and a knowing smile on his face.

Marco saw the smile briefly in the lightening flashes, and watched with interest, curious as to what his storm-shy husband might be up to!

Dylan lined the little shelf that ran along the headboard of the king-sized waterbed with candles; the mirrors in the top reflected the light, making it quite bright. The portable stereo, that held two cd's and switched over automatically; Dylan put on the dresser, in front of more candles.

"I think thats bright enough... to read by, don't you?" he asked a bemused but delighted Marco. When he held up the battery-powered cam-corder, Marco nodded, grinning, and clapping his hands in delight!

Marco's eyes followed his love...  
Lover...  
Husband!

Followed him to the little pink, orange, and yellow bookcase in the corner...near the bent-wood rocking-chair...that sat next to the antique cradle...

Dylan had built the bookcase from a kit, but the colors were his own choices; pink for the outside and back wall inside, orange for the shelves, and yellow for the stain on the glass doors.

Thinking of all this as he watched him select a book from their daughter's growing collection, Marco was so filled with love and gratitude for Dylan and their life together...as well as the child they would soon be sharing it with, that he was almost unaware of whispering the prayer in his heart aloud...

'Oh Lord, in thy strength the king will be glad,  
And in thy salvation how greatly he will rejoice!  
Thou has given him his hearts desire,  
And thou hast not withheld the request of his lips  
for thou dost meet him with the blessings of good things...

Coming back with a book of fairytales; Dylan can hear the whispered Italian...  
Seeing the tears that seep from beneath Marco's lashes, he touches his face...  
The lovely dark eyes open, and Marco smiles such a warm happy smile at him...

The kiss, that started out as a quick peck...ends when the forgotten book hits the floor!


	3. Chapter 3

story by:Tess2645/Kdoc27

*Disney/Magical Tales-Innovage Inc. **{D/MT-II(TLM)}

The sound of the book hitting the floor made Marco smile into the kiss...Dylan trying to bend far enough to pick it up...without breaking their lip-lock, started him giggling!

Dylan had to let go of him...or drag his laughing husband off the bed.  
He finally gave up...sighing as he stared into Marco now watering eyes, smiling slightly, though his eyes glowed with desire..  
"Keep that up...and I'm liable to forget your 'delicate' condition." Dylan said, trailing the tips of his fingers lightly down Marco's blushing cheek...

After all these years, the sound of Marco's laughter...the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles...  
Add in the soft flickering candlelight...  
Dylan couldn't help getting... a little bit lost.  
He knelt to pick up the book, his eyes never leaving Marco's.

Marco, watched, enchanted, as Dylan's eyes changed from their usual light clear almost sky-blue; darkening even as they grew soft with memories of other times...with candles...

"Little-Maui-on-the-Lake..." Marco spoke softly against the finger that brushed lightly over his lips.

For their fifth anniversary, Dylan had surprised him(after saying he couldn't miss the game tonight)with a Luau-style party on the lake-shore. His husband had used what looked like hundreds of flowers and flower-scented candles to try and re-create the feel and fragrance of an Hawaiian evening...

Their hotel-room had also been filled with flowers and candles...  
...rose-petal strewn sheets...  
Marco wearing only a lei round his neck, and a daffodil in his hair...

Dylan glanced at the flower from the breakfast tray...looked speculatively at Marco's hair...  
"Dylan!" Marco said with mock disapproval. "Our daughter is gonna think her dads are a couple of dirty old men!"  
"Nope." Dylan replied;"She'll think her 'dads'" (Dylan's eyes twinkled as he grinned unabashedly)"Must love each other very much!" The quick peck he gave Marco's nose effectively silenced him.

Dylan thumbed through the pages to the place he wanted, going round to climb onto the other side of the bed. When he glanced up Marco had the flower in his hair...and a lovely blush on his cheeks.

Dylan, resting his head against Marco's chest prepared to begin...  
Marco, recalling Dylan's reaction to the last story he'd tried to read from the book of original fairytales, decided he'd better warn him now.  
"Um, Dyl, which story are you .."  
"The Little Mermaid of course, since we can't watch, I can read it to her."  
"Yeah, about that, maybe you should go for the Disney version."  
"Why, I mean I know we have it in that collection that Ellie gave us, but It looks awfully short."  
"Y..yes.."  
Just one word.  
But you could say a lot with just one word...

Dyaln's shoulders dropped and tensed in the same motion.  
'Great!' He thought. 'What have I done now...'  
He'd been holding his place in the book with one finger...but he just laid it down and flopped on his stomach on the bed.

Dylan stretched.  
Closing his eyes...breathing slowly...deeply.

'No.' He thought..'He didn't say 'I'm wrong', not really...'  
Reaching both hands out, doing a full-body stretch.  
'And...It's not really a lecture...just a 'Marco Explanation'!' Dylan smiled to himself; knowing it couldn't be seen through all that hair.

Marco had asked him, since he wasn't playing, if he'd let his hair grow.

At the party after his last game he'd gotten wasted enough to tell his teammates he wasn't cutting his hair till after their child was born. Of course there were bets taken that he wouldn't make it!  
Good thing he hadn't promised not to shave, the itching would have driven him nuts!

So what if remembering why storms bothered him hadn't made them STOP bothering him.

Knowing that Marco didn't MEAN to make him feel 'wrong' or 'dumb' didn't help him not feel that way either!

It wasn't facts...  
It was FEELING!

He could choose how he wanted to feel.  
Wouldn't father 'Mo be proud!

This thought brought a smile,...one that was still on his face as he rolled closer to Marco, opening his eyes...

Yeah...I can choose how I want to feel.  
Right!  
Marco...  
With that half apologetic look on his face...the flower in his hair.  
That smile...above the soul-patch he'd agreed to grow back.  
With that half apologetic look on his face...the flower in his hair.  
Fine...let him lecture...I still get to lay here and enjoy the view!

Grinning at his beautiful, more-desirable-than- anyone-has-a-right-to-be love, Dylan tapped the book that rested between them on the bed. "O.k., what?" He asked softly.

"Well, that'll be the original story...do you remember it.?" Marco asked, somewhat cautiously.  
"Yeah, right!" Dylan laughed, rolling his eyes.

Marco could read his incredibly gorgeous, but sometimes just as incredibly dense hubby almost too clearly most of the time.  
And right now, he knew Dylan was expecting(we won't say DREADING!) a lecture! But he'd also noticed that since they'd started reading to Rosie(as she would always be to Dylan) that his big, tough, zombie-movie-loving husband would never read anything potentially frightening to her.

She would probably never get to hear Hansel and Gretel; the Little Match Girl, and the Gingerbread Man were on his 'No Way' list too.  
Marco remembered some of them from when his mother used to read to him and had Dylan read, or at least skim them before sharing them with their daughter.  
This one just sorta snuck up on him, It had been just last week...

After exercising with the dvd Dr. Levinson had him using now, Marco sat in the rocking chair in Rose's corner of their bedroom; a mug of herbal tea on the small round table next to him. Rose was quiet now; no more of the twitches that he thinks of (smiling at this foolishness) as her way of exercising with him.

When the other Del Rossi/Micalchuk team, the uncles had come over for their first visit, they'd noticed the bookcase right away...  
George and Giuseppi(each with his own handmade furniture shop) had immediately begun to chew Dylan out for the 'kit' he'd (" Bought!" "You wuss!") to build it with. They were somewhat mollified by the beautiful bed that he was 'properly' building from an antique design.

Marco chuckled remembering the look on Dylan's face when both men had started to yell at him.  
At the same time! His own uncle in French, Marco's in Italian!

Gently rubbing his belly; where Rose had settled into her 'nap-time-curl', Marco said: "Yes, my little angel, I'll be taking my nap soon too! Now, lets see...what shall we fall asleep with today?"

Instead of one of the larger, one-story books, Marco had pulled out the collection Paige had given them; the one with a gold 'star' next to each story that she and Alex had also given them a movie version of. About half-way down the list of contents, The Little Mermaid, one of his favorite movies, caught his eye.

As he flipped the pages Marco vaguely remembered that he'd read this story once, years ago...but only once.  
The picture on the opposite page wasn't at all cheerful, in fact it gave Marco an odd, uncomfortable feeling...sort of like at the beginning of one of Dylan's 'zombie' movies...

'Oh, well.' He thought, 'After all it was written in eighteen hundred ..something!'

As Marco began to read, however, the feeling of foreboding grew... The king's mother, going around with oysters attached to her as a sign of 'high-rank'(!) ..sounded pretty uncomfortable!

The girl in this story didn't sound anything like the lively inquisitive Ariel: she seemed so sad...like someone who already knew they were doomed. She had the statue of the prince in her garden, but with a weeping-willow planted next to it... When she finally go her turn (She had to wait till each of her sisters had their own separate turn to go to the surface; when they reached the age of fifteen) she had to wear eight oysters...and yeah, she said it did hurt!

The prince came into the story in much the same way as in the movie, but after that things turned sad and gloomy again.

When Marco got to the part about humans having short lives, but with souls that last forever, and merpeople living longer though they had no souls...he stopped reading aloud. Skimming through the rest, he quickly understood why he'd never read this story again.

Dylan had one arm round Marco, his other hand gently rubbing over his husband's belly; as if little Rosie needed soothing too, after hearing all this. The look of horror on his face made Marco wonder if Dylan might not need calming even more!

"This is supposed to be a fairytale?" Dylan asked.  
"Yeah, and I'm not too crazy about the pictures either!" Marco told him. In the few pictures of this poor nameless mermaid, she was either topless, or nude, with only her hair to cover her!

Dylan leaned down to where his hand still rubbed; not realizing he was doing it till just then, and spoke to her like she could understand him.."Sorry Rosie, this version's gonna have to wait...like maybe till you're 40!"

Marco laughed, and kissed his husbands cheek.  
Dylan was able to smile then, as his arm tightened round Marco. 'Thank you god... for Disney!' He thought, 'And a special blessing on whoever did the re-write on this one!' What he said out loud was "So, little miss hard-azz..." Marco glared at him, frowning and glancing down at his belly. "..as nails!" Dylan went on, getting elbowed by a still glaring Marco.  
"O.k...Ellie, does have a soft thoughtful side...who knew?" Dylan laughed, ducking the pillow Marco threw at him, as he got up to get the Disney collection Marco's best friend had given them.

After restarting the cd at the beginning, and returning with Disney:Enchanted Tales*: the first of the boxed two-book set, Dylan grabbed a pillow, got comfy again, and started to read.  
"It was the day that all the undersea kingdom had been awaiting..."**

The shocking truths about the original story had completely distracted Dylan from his nervousness about the storm.

Marco played with one of the long strawberry-blond curls.

Listening to the music, the now more distant rumbles of thunder(it puzzles Dylan how Marco can find thunder exciting, but rain relaxing) the rain... and Dylan's voice.

dylan.

Dylan!

Dylan Allen Micalchuk-Del Rossi!

Ten years married...and it still seemed like a miracle.

And it wasn't like this was the first time he'd read to Rose...

THEIR DAUGHTER!

It just...always did something to his heart...something so sweetly piercingly beautiful...

Marco lay there, swallowing..breathing slowly and deeply... He didn't want to spoil the film by crying.  
Dylan had forgotten about the camera...but Marco hadn't!  
This one would most certainly be transfered to dvd...and copies made!

When Dylan got to the fireworks at prince Eric's party, Marco was yawning...  
By the time Ariel heard Max barking...he was asleep.

And suddenly, Marco was looking down on all this again...like he was when it started...  
Looking down at his own past..

He wondered where Dylan was...  
What he was doing...

Tags: de grassi marco/dylan fanfic, mpreg1st marco forever


	4. Chapter 4A

4-A(Sorry, got to get a grip on proofing!)

Next time We'll Adopt! Chapter 4 **kdoc27** Current Location:  .Current Mood: cranky Current Music: A. L-No Trespassing, Dire Straits, Bee Gee's

Tess2645/Kdoc27

"Please !

I'm sorry...

...for not wanting this as much as he did...does!

Please don't...!"

Dylan knelt at the railing in the small hospital chapel, so terrified he couldn't even pray.  
Fear had him by the throat.

A strong merciless hand seemed to be squeezing his heart.

"I'm sorry!

I know you don't do bargains...but..."  
'Anything!' he thought.

'Anything...ANYTHING!'

"Ppplease...!  
I know we're not supposed to fear...not supposed to worry.

But...  
You sssaw...!

I can't...CCAN'T...!

He couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs.  
Shaking so hard...locking his jaw tight, as his teeth tried to chatter...like someone freezing..

'You know he's not gonna make it.' Dylan heard the cold empty voice in his head.  
He gripped the railing more tightly, shaking his head as if he could shake that cold voice out of it.  
The fear was a high-pitched whine, the blood roaring through his veins so loud; too loud to think through.

'It's over...he's probably dead already...'

"Shut up...shut UP...SHUT ...JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"  
Dylan started out whispering; Forcing the words out through clenched teeth, but ended up shouting!

"Get out of my head! Get OUT!  
I don't... We. Don't. Belong. To you!"

Dylan found himself standing, with his fists clenched, head down, as if ready for a fight.  
He didn't remember getting up...or turning to face the slim stand with the bible open on it.

A couple of steps brought him to where he could see that it was open to the book of psalms.

Line 5 of psalm 62 caught his eye...

'My soul, wait in silence for God only,  
For my hope is from him.'

He read down to line 8.  
Everything...even time seemed to stop.

He read it again...

Taking the book from the stand, he got down on the floor, holding it open in his hands as his breathing eased...that bone-chilling fear fading...

It was a big comfortingly heavy New American Standard bible, though the ones in the tiny bed-side stands in the rooms were the 'Good News' versions.

Marco had explained that to a lot of people, especially those who felt that the King James was the only 'authentic' version, or who hadn't read a bible since they were kids; this (NAS) just 'felt' more 'sacred'...  
"The plain language of the 'Good News' just doesn't seem quite 'holy' enough to them!"

Marco smirked a little as he put his arms round Dylan's neck; gazing into his husbands eyes, his face suddenly seeming to glow as he said.."Like having father 'Mo marry us, instead of some stranger or... just some judge!"

Dylan drew him into a tight hug; holding on to him like he might...disappear or something if he let go. Today Marco would start the hormone injections; step one in preparing his body for what stilled seemed to Dylan, like a bad idea.

Pulling back so he could look into his eyes, Dylan said; "I wish..." He stopped, taking a deep breath and blowing it out as he looked away...  
There was no point in even saying it.  
It simply wasn't possible!

But Marco got it.

And his hands were suddenly gripping the front of Dylan's shirt, eyes filling with tears. A look of such wonder filled his face...and so much love...shinning through the tears. "I...You..." Marco stammered, finally giving up and pressing his face into Dylan's chest, and whispering; "..Me too!"  
A shudder ran through him, and when he looked up again, all the love and hero-worship in the world was in his eyes.

They both wished he could really get 'with child' ...naturally...

Dylan wished Marco could really...have HIS baby!

Dylan.

Dylan!

MY DYLAN!He knew his husband loved him. After that first time, he'd never had any trouble saying it!

These days he'd gotten a lot better at showing at in the (so called) small, everyday ways.

But every now and then; there was something like this... something so 'girly'(Marco blushed deeply at this thought, but he couldn't think of it any other way at the moment) and outrageous that he couldn't bring himself to say...could barely even think about...

And Dylan would surprise him by not only feeling the same about ...whatever it was...but saying it!

First!

Just like the first time he'd told Marco he loved him...

"How can you even...?" Marco buried his head against his husbands' chest again. "I'm so ..."but the rest was lost in a sniffling, half swallowed sob.  
And it was Dylan's turn to play mind-reader, understanding what Marco was trying to say, even though he completely disagreed with it.

Dylan placed two fingers under Marco's chin, lifted his face, and wiped at the tears there, "Shhh, baby, I'm the one who said it, you only thought of it. Even with... everything, I just want you to know that this means ...so much!"  
"It isn't 'silly', I love you more than anything of course I wish this were 'natural' for us instead of so god-awful dangerous!"  
"But..."  
"And don't you dare say you don't know how I can be with you! A big dumb Hockey-Player jock, I should be your boy-toy!"  
Holding Marco even tighter, he said; "Sometimes I look at my ring...your ring on my finger, and I can still hardly believe it!"

Marco pulled back to object to these statements, but Dylan kissed him; giving his lips a quick peck each time the younger man tried to say something.  
Smiling against Dylan's lips, Marco pulled away just enough to put two fingers against the most perfect pair of lips in the world, and his second favorite part of his husband.  
Looking up into the eyes he could still get lost in...(even...etc.) and still his favorite part of this wild, (no more reporters would be waiting for them outside the hospital! By the time they'd figured out it was disappearing ink in the 'soaker' water-gun, Dylan had already gotten him into the car, Marco didn't think he really would have run them down...but... ) fun-loving, beautiful man that was somehow his husband, he said simply;  
"O.k." Nothing more.

But it was all there in his eyes.  
There was heat there...he could never be immune to Dylan's kisses...but so was a little sadness for Dylan's fears, as well as how proud he was that he'd support him in this anyway.

His Marco!

Everyone seemed to think Dylan was so wild and fearless...but to him, Marco was always so much braver.  
And always about things a whole lot more important than pranks or jokes!  
Like this...(.Having a Baby!) this would never have occurred to him in a million years!  
The only thing he could do was be there for him, and try not to allow himself to think about the fact that Marco could die from this...  
Every time this thought tried to make itself heard, he slammed that door hard and fast!  
Chained it shut, and locked the chains with a padlock!

To hell with fear!  
He could/would do this.  
He could be 'Daring Dylan' for him now.  
For his Marco...he'd do anything!

"O.k...Lets do this!" Dylan said, tightening his arms briefly round Marco's waist, smiling down at him...that way. The way Marco loved, like he believed they couldn't loose!  
He could make these stupid eyes twinkle if it killed him!

"Her eggs, maybe they'll be like her...kid could come early!" Dylan said shrugging.  
Marco laughed then, even though he rolled his eyes at Dylan and punched his shoulder.

But it was that laugh that Dylan loved.  
That one that still ran through him like nothing he'd ever felt before...

And he'd still do anything to be on the receiving end of it, anything at all to make him smile and laugh like that!

'Hormone injections... !  
Jesus, Mary, Joseph,...and Gabriel!' Dylan thought!

4-b

The door opened quietly.  
James came into the room so quietly, that Dylan didn't hear a thing.  
He can't help but smile when he sees his son sitting there on the floor; the big bible resting on his thigh..a finger sliding almost rhythmically up and down the spine of the book, while he chews on the thumbnail of his other hand.

Dylan is starring off into space...not quite frowning, but James knows every form of worry that this face is capable of.

Now he understands why his wife has sent HIM to tell their son what under any other circumstances would have been wonderful news.

Walking up the isle, glancing around, James thought; "Not bad ...for a hospital chapel."  
Getting closer to his son, he's even more sure of his first assessment of the young man's state of mind.

This close he can see that it's only part of Dylan's finger touching the big book...  
That part, just below the last knuckle.  
Right above where it begins to be 'hand'.

It is the heavy white-gold of his wedding-band that slides along the faux-leather book-cover.

The beautiful dark-auburn-haired, dark hazel-eyed, baby girl that James has just seen through the nursery window isn't even a blip on his son's radar right now.

The only thing on Dylan's mind right now, is Marco!

James gets close enough to put a hand on his shoulder before Dylan even notices that he's no longer alone.  
"Hey! 'Dad'!" James says.  
"Dad!" Dylan exclaims, getting up with bible in one hand.  
"Yes, 'Dad' ?" James tries again with a grin, making quotation marks with his fingers.

The eyes that Dylan turns to him are a little too wide, and pale as ice; there is steel in this glance.  
James tightens his grip on his son's shoulder a little; gives him a moment to process...

Dylan only stares; blinking at his father like he's speaking a language he doesn't understand.  
James smiles at him, shaking him a little; " Wake up son, your daughter is waiting to meet you." he tells him.  
'Almost thirty!" James thinks, shaking his head; 'And he still has a one-track mind/ can't find the forest with all those trees in the way...still my little boy.'

He understands, that Dylan is having trouble because these are not the words he has been expecting to hear.

Dylan, age 4...  
James in the bucket of a firetruck, coaxing him out of the tree he climbed into to escape the policeman who found him.  
On this rainy-day, a friend at day-care told him something about leprechauns, wishes and pots of gold...

Age 7...  
The kid he chased down and sat on; till he apologized to Paige for 'accidentally' pushing her off her skates,I bet she still remembers that one.. Months later, that kid still got off the ice when he saw her on it!  
Age 14...  
"But dad! I'm a Hockey-player, how can I be ...gay!?"  
Though he'd been right in worrying about how his mom would take it...

Then...  
"I knew, when you stopped sneaking out to 'hook-up', and started doing it to see 'him'...Yeah kid, you're in Love!" This, one night in the garage, to a totally surprised, and very nervous( we won't say scared shit-less) seventeen-year-old Dylan.

Then came university, and that near break-up; just Dylan getting lost in unsupervised freedom, he didn't really mean to hurt... anyone.  
It was the way Marco handled this that proved, more than anything else, at least to James that Dylan finally has someone else who really loves and understands him.

The couples-counseling might have been the best idea Marco ever had when it came to helping Dylan see more of life than Hockey... and how it (really) works!

His life has worked better ever since.

But...

He is still very-much that same little boy right now though, as most of us are when it hits this close to home, we all tend to loose some of our 'polish', no matter how hard-won it is.

Right now, Dylan is not hearing Father 'Mo's voice, the calm reasoning of voice of the counselor, but most likely he's hearing the sharp barking commands of the 'Hockey Coach' .  
The one that says;'Keep it together! 'Focus!"

However, the same ability to focus on just whatever is the most important thing at this time, the thing that makes him able to see who's coming his way, and decide whether they need to be avoided or passed to in order to score the next goal doesn't always work so well off the ice.

Also, when it comes to Marco...

After their first real problem with handling a separation of even a short distance, both of them had sworn never to let anything like that happen again.  
That was part of what had kept Dylan in Canada when the pros first started paying real attention to him; same for Marco when the scholarships started popping up...for schools he'd never even thought of!

Like it wasn't hard enough to just get through high-school and growing up...first the you-against-the-world beginning of life as a homosexual person; then making a one-in-a-million connection like they had.  
Then separation, university, Tim, counseling, the unlikely fact of Marie-Ellise's being the one to help Carmine begin to accept it all.

Now this...

It seemed like every now and then...something was determined to try to tear them apart...

He took a deep breath, huffed it out, and started again.  
"You're a father now." James said, gripping Dylan's shoulders...holding his eyes withe the demand in his own.

"Mar- " Dylan began, but James cut him off.  
"No!..." James shook him a little to get his attention; "Listen to me, he's in the ICU...just as a precaution!" He said when Dylan tried to interrupt.  
"Listen to me son, that little girl, your DAUGHTER; has to come first right now, she's only been held by doctors and nurses... She needs YOU now...needs to be held by someone who loves her, is glad she's here...and to know, to be told every-thing's alright. The FIRST time."

Dylan almost smiled; the eyes that looked back at James were almost they're normal sparkling sea/sky-blue again.  
"The 'first' time?" he asked.  
James smiled at him, punching him in the bicep.  
"Yeah, the first time...if she's anything like the two of you, it sure as hell won't be the last! Nurse says she's got quite a grip."  
They were headed for the door now, side by side.  
"Just what we need, probably the first female Hockey Player!"  
Dylan chuckled a little as they turned into the hallway.

when they passed the door to the Delivery Room, Dylan's jaw clenched; but he didn't stop, didn't even pause.  
The memory of all that blood, Marco's face...  
The big blond clenched his fists, shut the thought down cold!  
Rosie needed him now!

Dylan stopped when they got to the elevator.  
He smirked a little; the image of a teen-aged Rosie in full Hockey-gear, about to sling one into the net(sure she'd out-fox the goalie!) playing in his minds eye.  
'Yeah, right!' he thought.

One of his big hands gripped the heavier , but just as well muscled shoulder; his dad wasn't the one he'd got his height from, but their hands were almost the same size!  
Dylan's fingers curled, gripping a chunk of Jame's sweater, he looked his dad in the eye; head down a little, his 'game-face': 'I'm ready for it now', that look said, 'Bring It On!'.  
James smirked a little, quirked an eye-brow.  
They nodded at each other; just once...up, then down.  
Dylan punched the button for the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

To Degrassigurl: I hope you were serious about not minding if my chapters get longer!Also, I need to apologize further for my lack of proper proof reading, I had no idea so much was being left out!

Part One

Current Music:

Alice Cooper/Adam Lambert/Moody Blues

by Tess2645/Kdoc27

Dylan and his dad stepped in to the elevator.  
He'd been here so many times, there was no need to even think about what was on which floor; he pushes the button for the floor the nursery is on.  
He only stares at the 5 button for a moment.  
The ICU is on 5.

Hands on hips, Dylan glares up at the security camera, then at the numbers changing above the door...they seem to be moving so slowly...  
"Promise me!" He hears the softly, but earnestly spoken words again.  
He stiffens, clenching his fists and his teeth again.

'No! Don't think about that now!' Dylan tells himself furiously.

'Wonder what she looks like?', he thinks a little desperately. 'I wonder if she has these stupid uncontrollable curls...if she has his eyes...'  
Tired but still lovely warm molten chocolate eyes...  
Mid-night curls...lying plastered to his husband's face..  
"Promise me Dylan...!" that soft tired near-whisper.

Dylan Micalchuk-Del Rossi takes a deep breath.  
Of course this has to come back now.  
He even knows himself well enough now to understand why.

He shouldn't be taking an elevator up to meet their daughter.  
They were supposed to be seeing her for the first time ...  
Together.

This is just too close to one of Marco's worst fears...

They'd had allmost three weeks of 'normal', no 'over-emo'; no unexplained glares, sudden tears, or worst of all for Dylan, coming home to find Marco gone.

And 'That'

feeling, that 'no one home' feeling scares him more than anything else.

Since the beginning of all this, and for Dylan the trouble started with the first round of hormone injections; he never knows if Marco's absence means he just forgot to leave a message that he'll be late home, something happened and he's at the hospital(again!) or he's mad at him.

Marco... with a system full of female hormones... getting angry.  
Gives it a whole new meaning!

It could start with something like: "You 'SAID' you were going to call me at (what-ever time, usually during Dylan's lunch-break, which is sometimes lost to a meeting or an interview)" or "Why didn't you leave me any( what-ever he wanted that wasn't there)"and end with "Well, I called Ellie(or Paige, Alex, Jimmy(now a Basketball Coach with his own 'Camp') some of our other friends, or one of the 'Aunts' or...worst of all HIS MOM!) and we lost track of the time, I'll be there when I get there!"

If Marco was at his parents house and there was no note, or message, it was usually no big deal, but you never knew who might turn up there, or with what, especially if one of Marco's aunts felt like cooking: new recipies, old family 'secret' recipies...  
If Dylan hadn't been coaching, he'd probably weigh three-hundred-pounds by now!

If Marco didn't drive over, naturally Dylan had to go get him, and once there he knows he's trapped!  
A good night meant just having dinner with the family.  
If there was more than one car out front, and sometimes there was a line of them, look out!

A night with the aunts, or some of 'Mamas' other friends; especially the gay girls(some of whom made Paige look timid!) or guys who were into cooking, it could get dangerous...  
These nights, Dylan was expected to 'try' some of EVERYTHING...no-one believed in small portions!  
Oh they said 'just taste it' or 'just enough to REALLY get the full effect'.  
Yeah, right.

Said 'taste' always came in a bowl; dessert bowls didn't count: "Dylan, you big strong boy, a fly couldn't taste that!" (the aunts) or "Oh please! I'm sure I've got a thimble somewhere!"; or the one they knew would always get me:"If you're afraid of it just say so, 'Daring Dylan'...", you know who's who...

Not that it matters...  
Does the whole world have to adore MY husband!?

Where'd all the new gay ones come from?  
Church.

The media loves the fact the Marco and I go to church; and are blown away by the fact that our parents go to the same one!

There was just a trickle of new faces...at first.  
People coming by to see if we really went there; trying not to stare openly...only half listening to the sermon.  
Some of their faces seemed so ...tight though...like they were waiting to be singled out.

Or turned out.  
Marco says that was the thing that was really on their minds.  
Sometimes I forget that compared to what he went through in a mostly tradidional Italian family, I'd gotten off lightly.

Later though, some of the 'long-time' members that had seemed fine with Marco and I ; or at least hadn't 'said' anything against us...started to 'express their concern' when the couples... and singles, started to show up regularly.

Someone even had the nerve to 'hint' father 'Mo that the 'higher-ups', might hear of it if he didn't make some effort to'curb' the 'invasion'!?  
He responded that( and he'd 'heard-it-on-the-vine' as he put it) with the new influx of volunteers, donations, tithes, and 'thank-offerings': they were feeling too encouraged about the increased attendence(or too busy counting) to be disturbed about the gender of all these new prospective members.

That shut them up!

We get a lot of good publicity too.  
Our church is now pretty full every Sunday(and some of the other days) like it used to only be on Christmas and Easter.  
The people who were so 'concerned' are finaly starting to come around.  
Marco had predicted this, of course.  
He says these are really some good people, that they really try to live like their church is just another, larger family for all it's members.

Yeah,  
I know.  
How could you not adore him!?

But anyway...

So, why, as much as I love Mrs. Del Rossi('Mama' since our engagement) do I consider it the worst if he's with her?

Because that can always turn out to mean something...serious.  
With or without a note.

See, he has actually 'GONE-HOME-TO-MOTHER' on me...Twice!

Yes, really.

Waited till I was gone to work; packed a bag(or three!), his favorite pillow, toothbrush, toothpaste, (I squeeze from the middle, so we always have two), and my bathrobe!

That was what I noticed first.  
Since about half way through the first set of hormone injections, he says I smell 'funny' when I first get home from work, so I just started headding for the shower as soon as I get home.  
It could be worse.  
George, one of my teammates says his wife would throw up on him when he hugged her if he had even one beer on his way home while she was 'baking' their first!

So I get out of the shower, and it's not there on the back of the door where it 'lives', right next to his...  
Which is also gone.  
The laundry hamper is almost full, so that's not it.

Then I notice the missing toothbrush...  
I knew then.  
He hadn't left a note...  
Oh.  
I remember the lone can of crisco...in the middle of the table in the kitchen!

Oh Marco!

That first time was...  
Well...I guess...  
Oh, hell it was my own dumb fault!

This time, no guessing necessary!  
I never even saw it coming...but I should have.

But who knew a nickname would last this long, or matter this much to him!?  
Oh right...  
HORMONES!

Marco, who exercizes every morning, has dvd's so he can do his yoga and modern-dance, even if he can't go to a class, didn't handle the weight-gain part of being pregnant well.

Yeah, we had all kinds of 'chats', with doctors, both mom's, and our priest; we both knew it was just a necessary part of ...things.  
Sure, he'd rolled his eyes at me when I said that there'd just be more of him for me to love!  
I should have paid more attention to the silence that always followed talk about how much he might be expected to gain...

Yeah, there are all kinds of silence.  
If you're with someone long enough you get to mostly know what each one means...  
But I screwed up big-time on that one.

Did you ever see anyone who weighs himself before and after their morning exercizes?  
Marco does...or did.

I should've paid more attention, tried a little harder to find out why, even if it came down to just demanding he tell me what was bothering him. Sometimes he'll only answer a VERY direct question.

But I try not to argue with now, it can get...really strange, really fast, and after being kicked out; well out of the appartment, for a week: I am determined not to be the one who starts or keeps a 'fight' going.  
It's just not worth it.

"Wait, Time-Out! Sorry! Whatever you want, o.k!? I love you...!" Has almost become my 'mantra' lately.  
He may pout a little, or storm off.  
But it takes two to fight, and I just refuse to chance endangering his health any more than it already is.

Once he cools off and thinks it over, we usually laugh about it...  
Marco's not totally unreasonable, it's just that he can't stand feeling 'pushed' or 'cornered' right now.  
I get that.  
Part of me is still...scared green about this whole thing!

But it's not all crazy...

Sometimes, he gets it into his head that he has to apologize for some little thing that to me means nothing, but I can't persuade him that it doesn't matter...

The way he apologizes though, I really don't argue that much...because...well...  
Sometimes it can take all night

Part two  
*Louis Prima

Still, after all these years I hould've know better, especially since I'm the one who started the whole 'Mr. Fashion' thing, without even meaning to.

Maybe if I'd opened the box while he was asleep to see what it was first, or even made sure he was in a good mood, AND reminded him of how hard we(me and the guys) kid each other .  
We'd gotten used to my teammates sending us 'gag' gifts...at least I thought we had.

I started chuckling before I even got them out of the box; the hot-pink color of whatever it was just got me going.  
I knew it would be something silly.  
When I lifted out the 'size-XXX' hot-pink boxers, with big red suspenders attached, I broke-up completely!

I know.  
Totally brainless!  
Thats just how some of us are.  
Just a bunch of guys that work/play hard together; we get hurt, hurt people back, and have a lot of fun doing it, for the love of one helluva game.  
Yeah, we love each other...but don't expect to hear that.  
This is how we say it, with some stupid little tension-buster every now and then.  
It's just...some of us will never be comfortable saying EVERYTHING we feel.  
No matter how gay we are!

The card read: To: Your 'TEMPORARILY' Chubby Hubby!:), From: US! .  
But even through my laughter...I heard the harshly indrawn breath that was almost a sob.  
No, I hadn't heard him, I was laughing too hard; and right now he wasn't using aftershave or cologne: he said it burned too much.  
I could believe it too.

His skin is so beautiful now.  
That natural exotic darkness is ...somehow, lighter and rosier at the same time...  
With that velvety softness that you ususlly only find on a man's back: right between the shoulder-blades.  
Now Marco's skin feels that way...all over!

The two or three pounds he's been gaining a week aren't settling in one place, but all the right ones!  
It's more like he's just...filling out.

I can't get over his face!

Except for the height difference, Marco looks so much like he did when we first met.  
I swear his lashes are thicker...and longer, his cheeks are more rounded now.  
Soo like back then.

But as I look up at him, there is such a stricken look on that so lovely face...  
The card.  
Shit!  
It's right where I dropped it, on the table, beside the box.  
Marco is staring at it.

"Marco.." I reach for him, but he jerks back, his eyes are shiny with unshed tears...but there is such anger in this look; like the tears should be evaporating away as steam!  
Then his face darkens so much, and so fast with this anger, it scares me a little.

I open my mouth to say(maybe god knows what but I sure don't), but I never get the chance, because he's pointing a finger at me, grinding his teeth he almost spits out: "Not one word!"  
My mouth snaps shut like a trap.

I feel trapped, by my own unfailing stupidity!

I'd apologize for everything/anything...just to have him not looking at me like that.  
Marco is so mad he's shaking!  
'Please, god, please! Just let him calm down so he doesn't get sick again!' is all I can think.

He turns, goes to the sink; grips the edge of it hard, dhest heaving as he works to get control of himself.  
"Ugh!" He almost screams wordlessly , suddenly grabbing the breakfast dishes out of the sink, (soapy water flys everywhere!) and slamming them onto the floor!

"Marco!" I try to approach him, " Did you.."  
"Don't!", he waves me back, "I'm fine...just...great!(he mutters looking down). Just go."

I try to say something, but he glances up and sees; "Later, just...later, o.k.?" He gets the broom, starts cleaning up the mess. I touch his hair, but he jerks away again.

"I love you..." I say softly.

He nods, but his eyes are on the small bulge that will be our daughter.  
Marco mumbles something then, so low I almost don't get it as I turn to go.  
But then I do.

And I feel about two inches tall and shrinking...my stomach curling into an even tighter knot!

"So much for 'Mr. Fashion .." was what he said.

I try to loose myself in work...to keep the worrying to a minimum.  
It dosen't help.  
Right now I can't imagine what might.

Bring him flowers when I go home?

Not always.  
They gave me red roses, instead of daffodils with one red rose the last time, and I like an idiot figured it would be alright; I mean most people who like flowers like roses a lot too.  
They are the number one romantic gift right?  
A dozen red roses?

He sneezed for almost five minutes!

Oh well, at least he didn't throw up!

The last time I got him flowers to apologize, he'd hit me over the head with them!  
There was a 'lovely vase' they tried to sell me.  
Glad I didn't go for it!

All my calls went straight to voicemail.  
By the end of the day I'm a nervous wreck; found myself speeding, slowed way down, but I am so spaced I almost run a stop-sign anyway!

When I realize he's gone, I head for his parents' house, hoping 'Mama' can help me. On the way over, I think about the stupid nickname, and how it happened..

I was new to dealing with the press, and half high on getting four assists, and three goals for a two-point win, and this in the first game of the new season.  
My second year with the Leafs.  
I am not a 'rookie' anymore, but a fully accepted member of the team(!), and I have some cool new scars to prove it!

So, reporters in the lockerroom; wild, totally jazzed Hockey-Players yelling and high-fivein' each other...

"Hey M.D, (oh yeah, sometimes it's Mad Dog) Ya with us tonight or what?"

Klauss Shultz, had said I was too much of a 'pretty-boy' to be any good at defence, that was at my first practice session with them.  
By the 'change' he'd gone quiet, by the end of the day he was almost willing to talk to me.

"Nah, he'd have to get permission from the 'ball-n-chain' first!" That's Duggin, one of the best goalies I've ever seen.  
"You know thats not so, Jimmy" Shultz countered, mock-disaproval all too ripe.  
"Why thats right 'louse!" Jimmy apologises, bowing to Klauss.  
Yeah, we're real creative with our nicknames, and they are subject to change depending on how a game went!  
"Beggin your pardon, M.D.,That'd be 'balls-and-chain' to you sir!" Duggin finishes, tipping an imaginary hat in my direction.  
I roll my eyes, shaking my head before joining in as they roar with laughter.  
I elbow Jimmy, grinning , and affecting a 'touch-of-the-brogue' as I reply;"And a foiner, pair ya niver sawer!"  
They hold their bellies and groan, holding their noses at how bad my Irish accent sounds.  
"Not bad laddie, not bad!" Jimmy allows still chuckling.

I forget about the reporters in the time it takes us to get showered and changed; with all the mic's and flashes that were popping up everywhere, I figured they had enough for all the newspapers, mags, and t. -shows!

Wrong.

When we come out of the lockerroom and into the hallway, there is another crowd of reporters... and fans. I smile automatically, and look back at Jimmy and Lance,(another Foward) lifting an eyebrow.

My dad says, that some long-ago Trumpet-player had a saying: "Play pretty for the people!"

Well, if they can take time out of their lives to come see us, to get the autograph of some guy who may break the wrong thing, or get a concussion and be 'nobody' in a hot-flash(though some remain true even in the face of those things...it's rare, but it happens)we figure why not make it fun?

And sometimes it's memorable.

My love of pranks, gags, and just kidding-around in general helped me fit in quicker here, and I've never had more fun with it, even in high-school!

No homo-phobes here!

One of Jimmy and Lance's favorite 'gags' is to 'fight' over who is my favorite 'Lockerroom-Lover'! They stuff rolled-up socks or shirts down their pants, to prove which 'has the most to offer'. There's lots of variations on this one!

The 'picnic', which is a set-up for the food-fight, is the only one you have to buy a ticket for; the proceeds go to our local Children's Hospital. This one, which we only do at some 'home' games, is getting bigger every time we do it.

Sometimes the 'show' after the game gets almost as much coverage as the game!

But nobody's gotten in any trouble yet...

Well, not really... I swear it was a pillow, and we didn't know her dad was coming to that game, or how long it had been since he'd seen her !

This is all starting to wind down, when I see him.

My heart knew he'd be here, but my head was still stuck on the look in his eyes, and how distracted he was earlier, when he said he might be able to make it tonight. I know he's still not all that into coming to Hockey-games, or being in the mids of one of these meet-n-greets.

My Marco.

The dark-green sweater and matching 'engineer-style' cap, set off the exotic darkness of his hair and skin; the black, tight, 'Friday-night' jeans, and boot's make me want to not go out with the 'guys' at all...but just in with HIM!

Yeah, I see him almost every day of my life, but that 'There HE Is!' feeling still gets me sometimes...

And my brain locks-up, and I say something brainless.

He is standing with the other wives,( o.k. so their not all exactly 'wives', but they could get to be ...and even if they don't ...who cares, they are the people we love) in the section near the door that leads to our private parking-lot, and all I can think of now is getting over there.

I go over with the other 'marrieds'.

And the dance begins...

Thats what it looks like, a well-rehersed dance, though it never is...it's just ...a thing like jbirds flying back north when winter is over...a 'going home' thing.

We run to them, pick them up and spin them around; kissing them like we've been gone for days.  
They laugh and grin and seem just as happy to be in our arms.

When I put him down I don't realize the reporters are that close, as I hold him at arms-length so I can look at the way his clothes fit like they were made for him.  
"Well, hello there Mr. Fashion!" I say grinning down at him.  
He blushes, but keeps his eyes on mine, that through-his-lashes look ...still makes my heart flip!

Suddenly there are more flashes going off, and more mic's in our faces...  
"Mr. Fashion?"  
"Is that what you call him?"  
"Are you doing clothing-design too?"  
"Is that a new 'pet' name?"

He grinned at them with a sassy little smirk and just shrugged, before pulling me close for a kiss.  
Can you blame me for not thinking about it any further?  
Hell I stopped thinking altogether!

We found out that it had 'stuck' the next day when we got the paper.

Oh, well.  
I love the picture of us kissing with the rest of the 'marrieds', and still have it.


	6. Chapter 6

Next Time We'll Adopt

Chapter 6-A

So, by the time I got to Marco's parents' house, I didn't need to wonder if he was there or not.  
With all the parked cars, the street looked like there was a family reunion going on!

Great.  
Now I get to look like a jerk in front of half the family!  
I think I'd rather have faced the Defence of our most hated rivals...  
Alone!

But He is here.  
Here.  
He could have gone a lot further away...  
Or made me have to look harder, and longer.

So, whatever happens...  
Thank you God, thank you soo much!

When I park the car, I have to just sit there a while; the relief left me somewere between crying... or throwing-up.  
Big tough Hockey-player...right.

I was just getting it together, when Paige came out and stood by the car with her arms folded; shaking her head, but smirking a little.  
I just looked at her.

For a moment, it was almost like we were kids again, and she was about to rake me over the coals for another screw-up...but when she finally spoke, it was soo much the woman who'd finally found herself in her marriage to Alex, and not my little sister anymore...  
"Well, don't just sit there, scrape it up, get in here and take it like a man!"

We walked towards the house in silence, but she stopped before we got to the door; looking up at me with a slightly pained expression , she asked "Dyl, you didn't really call him your 'chubby hubby'... did you?"  
I ground my teeth and glared at her.  
"No, I didn't! That's just something the guys...!" It was my turn to shake my head in disgust. "Lets just get inside so I can tell this once, and get it over with."  
"o.k."  
And she really just let it go, but I could tell she was trying not to laugh.

Into the hall of shame.

I was barely through the door, when Ellie came in from the other room; putting her hands on her hips, SHE shook her head at me too!  
"I assumed you didn't really call him any of those things." Suddenly she was actually trying to hold back a grin: "Glad I was right. You're wanted upstairs, storm over!" Shaking her head again, she headed over to the coffee-pot, and got a cup.

I looked at everybody; Alex, with her arm round Paige, 'Mama' and my mom,the other Alex(a guy) and his partner(and probably soon-to-be-husband) Shane, and Stephen and Corey: they sat smiling at me over their coffee cups.  
Alex, my sister's wife, grinned at me and chuckled, "Better hurry-up, before he decides you took too long, and gets mad again!"

As she says this, nearly all of them start to snicker...and finally, giving-up; burst out into full blown belly-laughs and giggles.  
Yeah, they were killing themselves to do it too quietly for Marco to hear, till they found out how he was taking it now, nobody'd dare laugh in front of him.

My mom is wiping tears from her eyes even as she shakes a finger at Paige who is sliding out of her chair!  
Only Stephen looks at me with a little sympathy, and isn't laughing...at least not full-out; he's looking at Corey.

Corey wasn't much better when he and Stephen went through this; only his parents lived too far away, and his dad would never have let him come home then.  
His family had been just beginning to accept Stephen, when Corey decided to try having a baby.  
His dad is some hot-shot accountant, with a lot of very wealthy clients.  
When he called them with the glad-tidings, they took a long cruise.

I stop for a second at the bottom of the stairs, dizzy with relief for the second time this evening!  
Marriage; when do we get to the boring, routine part?

I ran up to his room; stopping at the door to compose myself...o.k. yeah to catch my breath and stop grinning like an idiot!

I was just raising my hand to , when I hear: "And don't you dare knock!"  
So, as instructed, I just opened the door.

And forgot how to breathe...

Part B

The dark-blue comforter is the perfect back-drop for all that incredibly lovely tan/rosy skin.  
Too perfect...

My heart is beating in my throat...my ears filled with the sound of blood roaring through my veins...all headed south, apparently, since my brain just stopped working.

Marco is lying there, propped up on one elbow.  
The only thing that breaks up the loveliness of his stretched-out body is the slightly paler-blue of my bathrobe...just the edge of it really, draped over his middle,(I don't know if he'd done it on purpose or not...but I can't think enough to care!) just below the end of the sweet curve of his waist...just above the end of where that deliciously-rounded butt becomes thigh..  
He has part of one sleeve pressed to his nose; chest swelling as he breathes deeply...staring into my eyes.

If the alarm had gone off then, it wouldn't have surprised me at all...yeah a dream, that would make sense.

The long, now thicker mass of midnight-black curls frames a face...so like Marco's teen-aged face...  
But this body...so truly a man's body now, but still having that same...almost..feminine-curving...the soo delicate balancing of shapes that has always called to me like no other body ever could.

marco.

Marco...

MARCO!

I don't remember coming into the room...closing the door.

I'm just ...there, beside the bed, staring down at him: dizzy from the way his face looks so like his face when we first met; the look in his eyes, so like the slightly-suspicious, almost...shocked... delight, that was often in his eyes when I'd come into a room, search for and then walk up to him, back then...

That look that says as clearly as if he'd spoken it:'Can he really want me?'

We both felt that way, a lot back then; each thinking the other couldn't really be serious, just kinda waiting for the 'punch-line'.

He actually thought I was ...like this really 'hot-jock', anyone's dream-date!

I couldn't believe this smart, funny, creative, gentle, kind, wonderful, unbelievably beautiful boy...really liked ME!...wanted to hang-out, and seemed to really enjoy being... with Me!

Marco has never liked movies about zombies,(and the reasons for that are a story all by itself) but he went to one with me...

He told me they frightened him, a lot, but of course I didn't really believe it, or even care that much...not then, Yeah I was just as much 'dumb-jock' as Ellie thought I was back then.  
But...

When Marco reached for my hand (during one of the first of the bloody parts of the movie) but then drew back, looking so embarrassed and afraid and...

I can say, now, that my heart couldn't stand that look...not on his face...couldn't deal with even the idea of him feeling that way.

I leaned over and whispered to him that it was o.k.  
After looking at me for a second, seeing that I meant it, he took my hand.

I can't even tell you how great it felt...that he wanted to.

Marco was serious about how much those movies scare him; and he had a stronger grip than you'd expect.  
Yeah, my circulation was gone for most of the rest of the movie, at least during the really bloody-parts, but the feel of his hand in mine was ...like loosing an arm, and getting it back, like...it's hard to explain...

Like this was HOME, where my hand had always belonged..and I'd just...somehow ...forgot/got lost...  
And now I was back again.  
Yeah, nuts, I know, but that's how it felt.

I could never have said all that then, I would've been sure I'd shrivel-up and die!  
Yeah, we've both grown a lot since then, though sometimes, when Marco's mad at me, he says ' Great, so now you're a full-grown jerk!', but whatever I am, as long as I'm still his...I'm good.

I finally remember to breathe, try to say something, but nothing comes out...  
Some tension seems to flow out of him as his lips twitch into a slow smile...the dark, super-thick, even longer lashes lower a little and he looks at me through them, and my breathing stutters.  
"Dylan..." He says my name like I've been gone a long time and we're greeting each other somewhere...public or ...like he's confirming/affirming...that this is... ME.  
My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely hear his soft warm voice.

Marco takes my hand, holding on as he gets up onto his knees, his eyes never leaving mine, the bathrobe falls away, and I am kissing those soo soft lips, my hands moving over him; this skin that is just as mind-blowingly smooth as it looks.  
My fingers trail down over his cheeks, relearning the shape of his neck...the feel of this new thicker, fuller, somehow...(though I know it's not true) stronger, or tougher or...something, body of his just...I don't have the words to explain what it does to me..  
I moan into his mouth, feeling his lips move into a smile against my own.

Marco pulls back, stares into m eyes while his own suddenly fill with tears, and he hides his face against my neck.  
I lift him into my arms, siting on the bed, holding him in my lap, so I can lift his chin, gently wipe the tears away with my fingertips.  
"Shh, baby don't cry, just tell me." I whisper, my lips brushing his forehead.  
"I'm sorry!" he chokes out, arms wrapped round me so tight, and he is shaking too.  
"It's o.k., I love you, o.k.?" I rub his back soothingly, and the panicky tightness of his grip on me eases a little.  
"It's just that I thought, thought you told 'them' because I grossed you out too much for you to talk to 'me' about it!" he mumbled into my shoulder.  
'Marco! What...How...!?" a glance from those red, still leaking eyes, and a finger touching my lips lightly stops me, and he says "I...I've seen you looking at me, lately...but you don't say...I didn't understand, o.k.?"

Inhaling a long stuttering breath, he blinks at the last of the tears, shakes his head as if to clear it, "It's just so hard to think sometimes, now!" he says exasperatedly.  
Smiling at little at the look of concerned bafflement on my face, he just looks at me with this... half-shame-faced expression that says 'You know!'...and in a minute, I do.  
My mouth drops open as understanding dawns.

Marco ducks his head against my chest; the tickle of those long soft curls calling to my ever-eager fingers.  
"Marco...!?"  
Then it's my turn to lapse into silence.  
I get it now, but can't imagine how to explain it all to him, so I stall a little, asking a question; a good one, but one that was only to get HIM talking while I thought of how to answer all this...completely and well, and in a way that wouldn't get me into trouble all over again!  
And to give me time to get a grip.

I know it was a cop-out.  
But I have my arms full of naked MARCO!  
Thinking isn't what I feel like doing, what I feel/want...is...we need to go home for!

Reaching back for the bathrobe, feeling all kinds of other things(that I also can't say) because he did something like that...brought it with him...even though he was mad at me at the time...puts enough of a lump in my throat to slow my hormones down...a little.

I put it round his shoulders, and he pulls some of it over his lap, resting his head on my shoulder, the look on his face says that he has no idea of how deeply his little 'attention-getter' has effected me; that's what it was about you see: proving to himself that I can still be knocked-out over the sight of him.

Now he knows.  
Turns out that's not all he knows, or more like realizes...

He's fine now.  
I'm still...more than a little...lost in fantasy land.

I wrap my arms round him, bury my nose in his hair, inhaling deeply as I get myself more under control, and ask; "So who got me off death-row?"  
He chuckles, kissing my neck, which starts to wreck my calming down efforts, but what he says next makes everything look better.

Looking into my eyes with a sudden, knowing smile; and this close I just stare helplessly back into his, he says; "Lets talk about it in our bedroom. Take me home babe, please?"

He put a little extra something into the 'please', like I might consider saying no to his request.

As if!


	7. Chapter 7

Part A

Tess2645/Kdoc27

Here.  
In this room, that was so much a part of our beginning...  
I can't help but feel echoes of other times like this  
Other times when I had caused him unnecessary pain with my lack of understanding, or thoughtlessness.  
I never mean to.  
He knows this, and usually; like now, he realizes at some point, and 'gets' that I just wasn't thinking about it right: not seeing it the way he would, or not even thinking about the way he might see it!  
He always forgives me...  
Thank you God!

That's another thing, I have Marco to thank for, I pray a lot more now, but it's amazing what I do and don't think to pray ABOUT!  
Like 'Please help me be less of a JERK!'  
Or how to not worry so much that I just run from one thing to the other without really THINKING at all; that's the real problem now, at least for me.  
I didn't want to try having a baby to begin with, too many things can go wrong, even if you're built for it!  
And Marco is quite capable of worrying and I mean that with a capital W, without the added 'hormone' thing to make him even more sensitive!

Now he knows I am still totally crazy about his body, extra weight and all, we can be ourselves...our normal selves, at least for this five minutes...

We are staring into each others eyes...and nothing needs to be said...  
His eyes...  
That we can still get lost in each others' eyes...like when it's still so new you can't believe what you've found.  
And we 'get' each other so easily, it's almost like telepathy.

Just 'us' again, and everything is fine; there's no need to say things about 'why', or 'sorry'.

Only this love that is flowing back and forth between us...surrounding us...filling us...  
What I'm living for now.

Marco says that's wrong, that we're supposed to be more willing/able to function separately, especially now that we have a child coming, but I just can't bring myself to picture my life without him.

Yeah, I know how it sounds.  
But it's not about control, or sex, or anything I can explain; and one day I may let him talk me into 'exploring it more deeply'- yeah, therapy-speak...  
Maybe.  
What I do know is right now I could sit right here, holding him; and after a whole day spent knowing he was mad at me, I could hold him, and look at him, and time can do whatever it does.

Ellie says we by-passed 'Love-At-First-Sight', and went straight to 'Married-At-First-Glance'! Says that the way I went and sat with him, that first day we met, and the fact that he let me(a totally un-Marco-like thing!) practically a stranger do that , was too amazing!  
Paige says she couldn't believe it was me, her 'hide-from-the-'emo'-side', brother taking on something like that without being 'pushed' to do it!  
To me though, it felt more like pulled...drawn...like it was the most natural thing in the world not to be able to just let HIM be that miserable...alone.

I wish it could be this way...all the time, but I know that when we get home, it'll mean more to him for me to explain my silence on the subject of his weight and what I actually said to the guys.  
Then he'll laugh with me about the 'giant' boxers!

He knows from my reaction to his naked body, that he has let his own self-consciousness and unhappiness with the extra pounds blow this out of proportion, though he'll still want to talk about it.

But that's o.k. now, I think I'll just do the show-n-tell thing.  
After all this, I just can't not touch what part of me is still fantasizing about...

The sound of muffled conversation rises from down-stairs, and we smile...even as both of us sigh deeply, neither ready for this moment to end. I kiss the tip of his nose and squeeze him one more time, before letting him get up to get dressed so we can leave.  
I got the two larger suitcases, and the inevitable extra food loaded, so by the time Marco came down, we were all packed-up and ready to go.  
He didn't even argue when I took the small over-night bag from him when he got to the bottom of the stairs; or when I opened the car-door for him. I saw his lips twitch though, and heard a giggle or two from the crowd I knew would be a the door and windows; watching the now 'happy-again' couple depart!

Would there be teasing later?  
Sure.  
Think I cared?

My husband and I were going home...well o.k. to our leased apartment, but anywhere we're together is home!

Across the street, a door slammed.  
I looked up to see a porch-light go out.  
No, not everybody in this neighborhood, or our temporary one approves.  
But we don't need the world.

I have Marco, and he has me.  
We have our family, friends, AND fans...  
Soon we'll have Rosie too.

We are both, well the whole family are all born-again-Christians...  
The 'World' isn't supposed to be our home!

X

X

X

When Dylan and James finally made it to the nursery, the crowd had grown.

Family members who'd gotten ident-cards, just for the 'delivery' part, were still arriving; the ones who'd gotten there earlier going down to make sure nobody got lost in the large, rather complicated hospital-complex.

He and his dad approached this growing crowd of laughing, babbling, family members, friends, and... Hockey-Players!  
That surprised Dylan a little,  
Yeah, they'd asked to be put on the visitors-list, but with so many gags going back and forth, Dylan had figured he'd just wait and see.

James retrieved the box of cigars he'd left on a chair near the nurses station, and pressed them into His son's hand; though seeing the size of this crowd, he wondered if it would be enough!

The proud grandfather put a hand on his son's shoulder, and steered a Dylan who now seemed too shocked/scared to move on his own, through the excited, happy throng; to the wide observation window.

There were many back-slaps, shoulder-punches...even a few attempted high-fives, as well as 'at-a-boy's', and other forms of congratulations...in at least six different languages!  
The 'Leafs who had showed up had brought their wives or girlfriends; so there were even more tear-stained, but grinning faces than expected!

Standing at the window, Dylan is oblivious to most of what was going on around him.  
There is such a look of astonishment on his face; lips slightly parted, eyes large and bright with wonder: you'd have thought he'd never seen a baby before!

But any father will tell you that till it's your kid, you haven't...not really.

The tiny one, in the yellow, hand-made(by one of the 'Aunts' of course) blanket.  
The same bright-yellow that was the color of Marco's favorite flowers.

The color of the blanket makes the tan-cream of her skin seem even lovelier, and more miraculous to Dylan.  
Part of his brain was flipping through memories...trying to remember where he'd seen a color like that...

"Egg shells.." he whispered..  
Then he caught himself, cleared his throat, blinking at the fact that he'd said it out loud.  
It's funny how far away the mind goes sometimes...

He remembered that until Marco had gone through his 'Totally Fresh Food' stage, he hadn't been on a farm since his early childhood; his mother had taken him to visit an uncle who lived on a farm. That had been the first time Dylan had seen freshly laid eggs!

Their daughters' skin was the color of the lightest of the 'all natural' eggs, which came in different shades of tan; unlike the plain white of the usual egg you got in the grocery store.

Thin wisps of dark-auburn, curls looked as if they'd been dabbed on with an artists brush; her lashes were darker than her hair, her lips a deep, almost lipstick-red.

Little Angel Rosellise Micakchuk-Del Rossi slept through all the fuss that was going on in the hallway on the other side of the window.  
At least until one of the nurses; seeing everyone pointing at Dylan then 'this' baby, picked her up so he could get a closer look!

Rosie woke up then, and, with tiny fist clenched tightly, let everyone know she didn't appreciate being disturbed..  
There was no doubt, small or not, that there was not a thing wrong with her lungs!

Dylan drew in an alarmed breath, unconsciously reaching towards her, forgetting the glass that separated them.  
Someone slapped him on the back, and said "Get used to that boy, It's your new wake-up call!"  
This got laughter, and lots of shouted agreements from most of the crowd.

Two nurses came to escort Dylan and the grandparents to a sort of changing room to first, get surgical gowns on, then get everybody's hands washed and sanitized, then to a room with a smaller window so they could finally meet the newest addition to the family.

Rosalia and Ellise agreed that Dylan should be the first to hold her, but they stood on either side of him, like spotters  
as the nurse passed the crying new-born to the first of her fathers...

In Dylan's big hands, the tiny, slightly premature baby looked even smaller... more like a doll than an actual living child.  
Dylan had tears in his eyes as he looked down at the miracle her now held in his hands.  
Marco... had actually...really...  
They had a Baby!  
He is really holding THEIR DAUGHTER!

He could only hold her; staring open-mouthed, as tears ran down his face for the first few moments. While everyone else in the room stared and smiled at him, knowing he was completely unaware of them for now.  
Swallowing, and sniffling a little, he said, "Hey, Rosie...! I've been waiting to meet you!"

The baby stopped crying almost instantly, blinking and trying to see(at least that's what it looked like) where the sound had come from.  
This shocked Dylan into speechless amazement...it was just so...so like Marco...  
Like Marco always seemed to calmed by the sound of his voice.  
And her eyes...

Now he saw that while her eyes were a sort of dark-hazel color, that they were shaped exactly like Marco's!  
It somehow...felt... like Marco looking at him.  
Though he knew she couldn't even 'see' yet, there seemed to be that same tiny sparkling 'star' that Dylan saw shining from the depths of her eyes too!

Seeing the look on his face,(and the paleness of it) as he looked up at Rosalia; one of the nurses led him gently to a chair and helped him into it.  
Roselia, having felt the same way when she saw her little granddaughter's eyes open, only nodded at him and dabbed at her eyes some more; reaching out to Carmine, taking his hand.

The chair faced the smaller window to the hallway, and of course more flashes started going off, as more pictures that would never make the papers were taken: these were for scrapbooks, photo-albums, wallets and small delicately-ornamented frames; places of honor, for the child that nobody had ever dreamed would be!

Of course all this started Little Rosie crying again...  
Dylan, holding her closer to his chest, began talking softly again, telling her how much he was going to enjoy reading to her now that he could see what she thought of the stories...just nonsense really...  
But it worked...  
Rosie stopped crying and listened...  
She even made a few little 'coos' of her own.  
Almost like she was talking back to him.

Marie-Ellise clutched her husband's hand tightly, biting her lips, and glancing back and forth from Dylan to James.  
She finally leaned weakly on James' shoulder and sobbed quietly.  
Her big tough son, seemed to know exactly what to do, for a baby!

Roselia got to hold her next, with Carmine grinning and blushing all over himself, and trying to cover his sniffles by clearing his throat... a lot!  
He had never expected to be a grandfather; not with the way things ha turned out for his only son.  
He'd secretly mourned the possibility, especially as bright and special as Marco was.  
He was 'fit-to-burst' with pride and wonder at THIS!  
Not only was he a 'grand-pa', but he might even get to be a great-grand-pa, too!  
And he could have missed this...  
He would forever be grateful to his friend, Ellise Micalchuck for coming to talk to him that day in the hospital, and waking him up to his son; the real one, not the one he'd carried round in his head,and been on the verge of dis-owning.

Little Rosie finally came back to 'Da-Dyl', as he would be to her for the first few years of her life.  
Oh yeah, Paige would teach her Dylalyn(-dila-lyn) but thank God she wouldn't like it!

He felt more confident about holding her this time, and with her in the crook of one arm, he reached a finger out to touch the tiny but perfect face, the tiny fingers with their tiny but perfect nails...  
As he did this, one little hand curled round his finger.

It might as well have been his heart...

Suddenly the tears were flowing again.

He loved Marco; had never stopped being surprised at just how MUCH.  
But this...

This tiny...beautiful...perfect...heart-breakingly precious...helpless...

'Oh my great Lord God...!'Dylan thought.

He'd wondered if...  
Well, how he'd feel about...

He didn't need to wonder anymore!  
He would never break this trust, no matter what it cost...

Yeah, he'd die for her.  
In a New York Second.

Part B *I'd go anywhere with you.

Since she was so small; weighing only 3 pounds, and 6 ounces, they told Dylan that they were going to keep her for a couple of days,just to be sure, but since Marco would be there too, Dylan refused to leave.  
His family was here, therefore, he'd be here!

No body could talk him out of this, but since they already had offered to let him and Marco use their make-shift apartment when they were having serious problems with Marco's health, they agreed to let Dylan use it now.

After all, Marie-Ellise wanted to know; what the difference would be!

So, for the first few days of their parenthood, the Micalchuk-Del Rossi family lived at the hospital!

The Mountain of presents were taken to the apartment for them, which was also cleaned for them by the grandmothers and aunts, since they didn't seem willing to trust anyone else(especially not some maid service) to do it thoroughly enough.  
More shopping was also done, whether it was needed or not, so that when they did come home they wouldn't need to leave the house for anything...For a while!

They moved Marco out of the I.C.U. later that day, so of course the shifts of 'visits' would start...  
Which of course meant more flowers and gifts.

But that first day only Dylan and his and Marco's parents were allowed to see him.  
And Father 'Mo.

Father 'Mo listened to them all, prayed with them, helped make plans for Rosie's christening,  
He counseled them, separately and together.

He loved these boys; still thinking of them that way, even though Dylan had been fresh out of high-school when he met him.  
Marco, he'd known since he was a small child, new to this country, but learning the language fast and well!

He couldn't help but love the wide-eyed inquisitive boy who wanted to know everything...about everything!  
This boy who talked to him about the things god 'shared' with him, at first, growing more quiet during that time in all young lives when it seems like he(God) steps back to see what we would be if left to ourselves...

He was there for him when he 'rediscovered' his savior and accepted it all, began to grow in the faith,but not(THANK YOU GOD!) in religion!  
That bunch over there in Rome mean well, but they too sometimes fall into error: we all need grace, that's why HE did such a thing!  
No, we could never have imagined such a god.  
No Way!

He knows that Marco has been a lot happier, and a lot calmer with Dylan, he noticed that from the beginning.  
It had only become apparent since just before they decided to 'have' a baby that his long-time friend had really started getting a handle on his worrying habit!  
That decision, to try this dangerous experiment had been a part of that particular change.

The old priest only hoped that all that they had been through hadn't caused Marco to loose any of that new strength and courage.  
The day of their daughters birth had taken a heavy toll on Marco's physical, and emotional health, that much was too obvious.  
The thing that he would just have to wait and see about, was how much it had affected his less open, at least to anyone besides Marco or James, husband.  
About Dylan, only time would tell...

Dylan stood at the window of the I.C.U., seeing Marco through the glass, all the tubes and beeping machines...again!

He looked so small...  
Dark circles ringed Marco's eyes.  
They were soo..tired

Which, whether he was ready to think about it or not, took Dylan back to that night, the night after the 'giant-jocky-shorts'.

They held hands all the way home.

There was a mini-van on either side of them as they waited for the lights to change.

Dylan saw Marco looking at the one on his side and smiled: that could be them soon! Marco turned, looked back at him, smiled with him; even as his eyes moved to the closed top of Dylan's trade-mark convertible, and he sighed.  
Dylan's eyes twinkled as he raised Marco's hand to his lips;  
"I'm keeping it, there'll still be date-nights!"

Marco started to laugh, but the lights changed, and a car came tearing through the intersection with a police-cruiser right behind it!  
Marco drew in a sharp, shocked breath; his fingers gripping Dylan's more tightly as he stared at the passing spectacle with an almost haunted look on his face.

'Would this day never end?' Dylan wondered.

He couldn't go after that idiot, but he could...maybe, ease this new tension a little.  
He got them going again, and, shaking his head a little,(seeming to look straight ahead, but watching his agitated husband out of the corner of one eye) said, through clenched teeth: "I am thinking of a word...!"  
Marco's lips twitched, the expression in his eyes beginning to soften.

Encouraged by this, Dylan glanced down at him and said:  
"It begins with an 'A'!"

Biting his lips and frowning, trying to look like he's really thinking hard, Marco asked: "Is it 'Aardvark'?"  
"Nope." Dylan mock-glared at his husband.  
"Is it 'Antelope'?"  
"Nope, cold."  
"Well, whats the second letter?" Marco asked, his eyes dancing merrily.  
"'S'!" Dylan said, glad Marco was willing to play the game. He'd find out later why his usually so traffic-tolerant husband,(Marco has never in their lives ever shown any sign of road-rage before) reacted to the speeder so badly.

"'Ashram'!" Marco exclaimed, grinning, starting to giggle.  
"No, still cold." Dylan was grinning now too!  
"'Asphalt'?" Marco was holding Dylan's hand in of both his now.  
"Way cold...freezing!"  
They are both giggling, the cause of it all nearly forgotten.

"Whats the next letter?' Marco asked, turning so he can look at Dylan; enjoying the deeply vibrating sound of big blond's laughter...  
Loving him so much right now; it's there in his eyes...  
Loving that he would come up with things like this to help him stop over-thinking, worrying about things so much.

"Another 'S'!"  
"Aaassortment?"  
"No!"

When they parked in the high-rise car-park that served their building, Marco still hadn't 'guessed'...  
"No! Ice cold!" Dylan shivered as he turned the ignition off.

Marco, already out of his seat-belt, was suddenly kissing his grinning husband's neck, and whispering in his ear: "I'll warm you up properly when we get inside...!"

Oh yeah, the car got unloaded in record time!

And it started in the shower...

Dylan soaped-up the big soft sponge, and slowly and thoroughly showed Marco, with his touch, his kisses, and a few whispered words...lots of sounds that weren't quite words...  
Just how much he adored him and this new, excitingly different body he has now.

Marco didn't last long...  
The first time.

And yes, God favors true-love...lovers...  
The hot-water didn't run out till they were done...in there.

They dried each other off...really well.

Dylan warmed the lotion in the micro-wave... Kissed each part before gently applying said lotion.  
The special cream that held the stretch-marks at bay, Dylan warmed between his hands...

Marco, unable to not be touching his sweetly torturous lover any longer grabbed two handfuls of blond curls before all the cream was rubbed-in.  
The kiss was almost violently passionate.  
Dylan's cream-slicked hands slid down to Marco's hips...massaging and kneading, pressing them more firmly together as he rolled them over...never breaking the kiss.

When they finally broke for air, Marco pressed his face into the side of Dylan's neck; breathing the scent of his love in deeply with each  
"No!"inhalation,,,,

Robin Gibb wailed about 'following someone anywhere...*.' And in that moment they both agreed with him on it...

Later...

Snuggling on the clean sheet that Dylan had changed; wrapping Marco in the comforter and carrying him (Marco stared at him in open-mouthed shock till he put him down!) to the big reading chair by the window.

Dylan couldn't help smiling a little smugly at his wide-eyed husband/lover as he changed the linen, and the speculating look in his eyes made Marco, even as tired as he was now think/hope Dylan might be waking him up again later.

Dylan was just thinking about turning off the bed-side lamp...drifting closer to sleep, when he heard the soft whisper...  
"Dyl...?"  
"Mmmhhmm?"  
"Promise me something...?"  
The sadness tinged with wistfulness in Marco's voice made Dylan open his eyes; ready to really listen.

Marco's chin rested on his hands, which lay together on Dylan's chest.  
His eyes were tired...but still soo beautiful; those lovely dark lips kiss swollen.

It should have hypnotized Dylan; looking into Marco's eyes this close, but it was the sight of so much worry in them, somehow magnifying the weariness that held him immobile this time..  
"What!?" Some nameless thing curled tightly in the big blond's belly, dried his throat, so that his voice came out in a raspy croak..  
"Whats the.."  
"Promise me..." Marco said cutting him off. "Promise me that...if anything...goes ...wrong..."  
"Marco!?" But his clearly deeply troubled husband stopped him with a 'look'.  
"If anything happens and I don't...make it?... That you'll be the one who raises her, our daughter. That you won't just give her to our parents...or Paige and Alex to raise.  
"Marco, don't even...!"

But Tears suddenly filled Marco's eyes and he pressed his face into Dylan's chest.  
"Please...please Dylan!?"Marco mumbled through his sobbing; he seemed too tired to argue, willing to almost beg.

Of course Dylan couldn't stand it; would have promised him the moon;'Sure babe! Just let me get a really long rope!'  
"O.k.! O.k. baby, I promise! I swear, alright? Don't cry, Marco please...o.k.? I'll raise her, I swear I will!  
Dylan held him, kissing the top of his head, stroking his hair.

"I may need lots of help though, you don't really want a female Hockey-Player do you?"  
Marco tried to laugh at this, but wound-up crying harder as he held onto Dylan even more tightly.

Dylan held him, rubbing his back soothingly, letting him get it all out, refusing to even think about such a possibility.  
But Marco trusted him, knew he'd try to do the best he could to keep the promise, and it calmed him...helped him regain some of his control.  
"Thank you...tha...thank you so ss..soo mmmuch!" he stuttered out, slowly getting a grip on his tears.

When he could speak without stuttering again, Marco told him about the accident he passed on the cab-ride to his parents' house.  
The father standing in blank-eyed shock, as his daughter held tightly to his hand and cried, screamed:"Why wont mommy wake-up!"

Dylan shivered thinking of this now.

But Marco Had!  
He was looking back at Dylan right now!

The eyes above the oxygen-mask were tired...  
But they were open and 'smiling' at Dylan.


	8. Chapter 8

Tess2645/Kdoc27

Part One

Tired.  
Marco feels beyond tired.  
He feels all used up.

The memory of how fast those bags of blood ran empty and were replaced with another make him feel sad and...something like...doomed.

He thinks of the little girl at the scene of the terrible accident again, wondering if maybe getting their daughter into the world is the last thing he will do...  
If the reason for practically reliving that stormy day when Dylan had read to their then unborn child by candle-light was so he'd have a special memory of them engraved on his soul, something to hold onto while he waited all the years that would pass before either of them would join him.

He knew she was fine and whole and perfect.

He had seen her too...

In the deep blue he drifted.  
He thought of this place that way because that was all he could see.  
It looked like he was standing behind a really heavy curtain, or drape, and the only reason he could see the color of it was because there was a really bright light behind it.

Marco hadn't thought much about what this might mean...

Here, wherever 'here' was, whatever he wondered about, he found himself seeing...

When he'd first thought of Rose, he found himself in the nursery.  
Marco saw his daughter being gently bathed , soothing lotion applied, and wrapped in the Daffodil-yellow blanket his aunt Seraphina had made for her.

She was so tiny!  
After all the weight he'd gained, and the size of his 'baby-bulge', he was a little surprised by that But from the sound of her cries, he could tell there was nothing wrong with her lungs!

His next thought had of course, been Dylan.

Well, he had really been his first...

But that had been more like...feeling.  
No thought involved.  
Just shock/response.  
The emotional equivalent of 'What the %#*!? Hey, where'd it all go?!'

Like reaching out...a hand stretching up from deep...hoping for something to touch/hold on to...

The sound of heavy rain stayed with him.  
Helping to him to be calmer than he would've been if there was nothing but silence out here in the deep blue...

Then he'd been able to wonder, assuming he was knocked-out with all the pain-killers how Dylan was dealing with this.  
It sure wasn't going the way either of them had expected it to.

Seeing Dylan in the hospitals' chapel had been such a surprise/relief!  
He was proud of his husband for turning to prayer instead of just sitting biting his nails and worrying till he lost his temper.  
That used to be his first-response.

x x x

The young I.C.U. nurse, who was checking Marco's vitals, (according to all the 'machinery') and recording them on a clipboard heard him sigh faintly and looked down to see him smiling behind the oxygen mask.  
She made a notation on her chart, checked the IV drip again, and left the room.

Marco had smiled as he thought about Dylan and his reaction to surprises...well..bad surprises that had anything to do with Marco!  
It didn't matter if it was serious or not.  
Dylan didn't just 'get worried', or 'nervous'.  
It was more like a bomb went off somewhere inside him, and pieces just sort scattered everywhere!

Though Dylan was, after all these years, a lot better with it than he'd been when they'd first started doing the counseling with Father 'Mo!

Back then, his first response had been to just freeze, staring at whoever told him...what ever it was; staring cold-eyed, and to tell the truth, a little menacing, till they said something else, elaborated, or practically spit "What are you saying?", through his teeth at them.

If Marco was the one telling him there was a problem, he got the determined, 'just tell me what it is, and I'll fix it!' look first.  
He learned right away, without having to be told, if Marco hesitated, that a comforting touch, or holding his(Marco's) hand, and saying " C'mon, Marco, tell me!", and Marco would trust him to be able to do...something...about almost anything.

Well, learning 'the effect of our responses and expressions on other people', had changed a lot of things, for both of them.  
It had never have occurred to either of them before this that they might be a little...intense when it came to each other.

Dylan's way of handling things was too often to just immediately start racking his brain for a solution.  
In silence.  
If you pressed him before he was ready, he fired sixty-million questions at you, (what he was probably doing to himself inside his head!) and started pacing and flinging his hands around a lot.

And like before, if it was Marco, he pulled him in for a close hug; holding on like he might vanish if he didn't hold on to him till a solution was thought of.

Whatever he did, you kinda got the feeling that he would have liked it better if there was just somebody to blame, so he could just...DEAL with them.  
Yeah, his 'work' was a very violent sport, but it still puzzled Marco that His-Dylan reacted this way.

So does the difference between Dylan's way of handling it when it's him in the hospital; which means it's time for joking around, playing pranks on the nurses, and...if it's a private or semi-private room...as much romance as he can coax Marco into...or as they can get away with!

As opposed to when it's Marco who's the patient.

Then it's all clenched teeth, and fists, I mean to the point of white-knuckles!  
The happy, easy to please/deal with Dylan is replaced by a watchful suspicious stranger who only wants to know; (now that he's been in there enough to get a grip on hospital procedure) that everything that can be done to get Marco out as soon as possible, is...preferably YESTERDAY!

Like the time Marco had to have his appendix out.

When Marco woke-up with those terrifying burning pains shooting through his stomach(he thought) Dylan had been a real brick; knowing just what to do because he'd already gone through it with Paige when she was a lot younger.

He knew to only let Marco rinse his mouth, and not drink anything. The first thing, well really second, after getting a cold towel for Marco's flaming face, and getting him to tell him what he was feeling; was dialing 911 and getting an ambulance on the way.

Getting Marco into his pj-bottoms, then carrying him downstairs to the couch to wait for the medics to arrive, Dylan was so sweet, gentle and patient.  
Marco's guardian angel couldn't have been kinder.  
On the ride to the hospital Dylan held Marco's hand, brushing the hair out of his eyes and whispering to his miserably curled-up husband that it would be o.k..

Marco silently stared into Dylan's eyes as they took him away to be examined.  
Just before the curtain closed, separating them, Marco saw the shift in Dylan's expression ...the curl of his fist, the cold taking over his face.

The medics, who'd been talking to one of the doctors over the mobile phone had given him a shot that eased the pain a lot, but when the doctor examining him pressed his fingers into Marco's side gently, he still screamed.  
When Marco got his breath back, he heard a chair scrape across the floor out in the waiting room, and a strained voice saying "Easy, easy now, C'mon, they're just examining him, he'll be o.k.!"

Marco did as much research on this Male Pregnancy Procedure as he could, and talked to a few of the doctors who were trained to perform it, figuring they'd pick one together.

x x x

The night he chose, to tell Dylan about all this, he cooked him one of his favorite meals and had his favorite dessert waiting for him in the freezer.

Marco was pretty sure the Leafs would win their game that night; if not he'd pick another night.  
After a loss, Dylan's anger would be way too close to the surface and he really didn't want to fight with him.

If it went o.k., he'd tell him about the 'two operations'( one to insert two foam shields with a firm side, and a soft side to protect his stomach and intestine from the growing bulge, but not fist tearing the placenta, the other to imbed the placenta near his intestines) part after dessert.

Marco planned on feeding Dylan dessert while siting on his lap. That should distract him from wanting to start an argument.  
It usually did!

The doctors had assured him they'd be able to cut along his old appendectomy scar so he wouldn't have any more scaring to worry about.  
Marco hoped that would help Dylan feel better about this as well.

Funny how Dylan was proud of a new scar whenever he got one in the rink, but seemed to feel like someone should should have to pay if Marco go one!

There was also the fact that their friends Corey and Stephen had tried it and everything had turned out just fine.

All in all it went pretty well.

The fact that Marco 'accidentally' spilled half a bowl of the dessert down Dylan's chest during a kiss...and cleaned it off him without the aid of a towel, helped a lot too!

Dylan eventually started speaking to Stephen and Corey again.

Part II

Marco noticed a line of light at the bottom of the heavy drape.  
Wishing for something else to do while he readied himself to reenter his tired sore body, he decided to see if he could lift the drape and see what was on the other side...

In the I.C.U, Marco's vitals dropped off suddenly, and the machines began to beep and buzz loudly.  
The nurses and doctors came running in just as the EKG went to flat-line...

Marco found himself standing in a light so bright it blinded him, and he covered his face with his hands.  
When he took his hands down, blinking as his eyes adjusted, he was standing in a field of wildflowers, the sun a bright yellow ball overhead.

Looking to his right, he saw a soft mist curling over the ground; further on, the mist was so thick, that he couldn't see through it.  
Marco started walking that way.

The mist or fog was soon swirling over the tips of his jogging shoes...then up the legs of his jeans...soon he couldn't see his feet at all.  
He'd expected it to be cool on his arms since the muscle shirt he found himself wearing left them bare, but this fog had no temperature; it was just...there.  
Strange!  
But that only made Marco more curious.

Reaching the place where the ('cloud'...his mind whispered) mist got so thick nothing else could be seen, Marco looked back.  
The field of wildflowers stretched away behind him as far as he could see.

Somehow, this felt perfectly right, and turning back, a completely untroubled Marco stepped into the mist.

Now...he could see.

The flowers on this side of the wall of mist were larger and more fragrant, and not too far away, there was what looked at first like a wide white wall, the top of which was too covered by the mist to be seen.  
As he got closer, Marco saw that it was a set of enormous stairs that went up and up, seemingly into nowhere.

He was startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat in that polite way that means 'excuse me?'.

Marco had only been staring at the stairs as he walked, not paying any attention to anything else, so when he looked back at the space before him, he was surprised to see a small table a few feet away with someone in a sky-blue cloak seated there.

He could tell from the size and shape, and the sound of that soft 'ahem', that it was a female, but no more; the cloak hid her so well, it's hood covered even her face and hair.

Those gloves...something about them stirred Marco, made his eyes prick, and his throat burn.  
Clearing the lump that had formed in his throat, he spoke to her.

"Um, hello." he said, with a lilt on the end that made it a question.  
She lifted her face then, smiled at him.  
There was something familiar about the girl,though Marco would have sworn he'd never seen her before.

The wide dark-brown eyes studied him carefully, almost...expectantly.

Marco found himself wishing he were dressed better.  
With that thought, he found he was just suddenly wearing his favorite Sunday suit!

At the sound of her soft giggle, Marco looked back to the girl before him.  
Her eyes were sparkling merrily now, lace-gloved hands lightly covering her smiling lips.

The expression in her eyes; almost teasing, but a little...proud too, and that gesture...  
So...familiar...

She bowed her head again for a moment, and when she lifted it again, it had...changed...aged!

And Marco knew her.

He ran to her, dropping onto the ground and taking the lace covered hands she stretched out to him in his own and holding them tightly.

"Nonna!"he cried, smiling delightedly up at her.  
"Il mio nipote preferito!"she murmured, with just as much, if not more delight!

Now he remembered the tiny little old lady who always wore lace gloves when he came to see her...way back when he'd been a small child.  
She always sat at her little table by the window, and they had tea and what he called 'pinkicing-cookies'.

She had died about the time he was finishing the second grade; and Marco's world, that had begun to seem strange and hard had become even emptier for a long time.

"But...how? Am I..!?" Marco stammered out.  
"Not yet my darling, not for a long while. But we knew you would be...visiting..and I get to be the one to see you...This time."

She held his up-turned face gently between her lace-covered hands.  
The little old lady kissed his forehead then, and the scent of lavender rose up round him as it had when he was little, and Marco felt safe and loved.

Patting him on his shoulders she told him to get up and sit, before the tea got cold!

When Marco looked at the table, it was covered with the same lace cloth he remembered, and sure enough, there was a steaming tea-pot, and cups and saucers, as well as a small plate of the strawberry cookies he had loved so much.

He sat in the dainty chair, watching almost hungrily as his beloved grandmother poured tea for them, adding milk, and passing him some of the homemade cookies on delicate china plate.  
She smiled at him, looking at him through her lashes.  
Dylan would have recognized that look.

"Ask." she said as she raised her own antique cup.  
"This time...?" Marco asked, before taking a sip of his tea.

Oh, how that taste took him back!  
He could almost hear the Vivaldi, playing softly, as it had in her little parlour.

"You met you Granpa here once. You were about three I think, and had a terribly high fever.  
You called for me when it finally broke, and you told me a man with a funny mustache said to tell me 'Hello, Il mia piccola fragola'  
Her eyes sparkled above a misty-eyed smile as she put her cup in it's matching saucer.

Marco's eyes widened in surprised shock and...recognition!

"The soda-pop waterfall!" he blurted out.  
"And the lollipop trees !" they finished together.

Marco's Nonna clapped her small hands as she laughed with him.  
"Everyone thought you had dreamed 'Wily Wonka', but only my Giovanni called me that. My Rosalia, She knew!"

Marco sighed deeply then, looking a little sad.  
"Oh Nonna!" he said, tears shining in his suddenly tired eyes.  
"I know my darling." She said taking one of his hands. "But you did it. Just as you were meant to, and she's such a beautiful baby!"

"Nonna, you're speaking English!" Marco exclaimed, having just realized.  
"Am I?" She queried, her smile a little mischievous.  
"Aren't you?" Marco frowned, tilting his head a little.

Marco tried to analyze the look she was giving him; it was secretive, but...teasing. Like a question he should already know the answer to.

"No child, you'll figure it out,but time grows short, and you have to be getting back."  
The old lady was looking at him fondly, but sadly now, and the table; though still covered by the lace cloth, was no-longer set for tea: an antique clock sat in the middle of it.

"But..." Marco began, but she held up a hand.  
"I will not have a granddaughter who is closed to all of life and love,but consumed with Hockey! And I know you don't want Dylan to see her graduated and off to University, only to..." she stopped then, Looking even sadder.

Laying a gentle hand on his, she said "Marco, if you don't go back...He'll try, because he does love her...but it's too new to him. Your Dylan is not as strong...in.." Here she stopped for a moment, looking a little...almost a little ashamed.

But lifting her eyes to him again, she squared her shoulders, sat up straight; "In-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound!" She said."That means.."  
"I know what it means Nonna, but .." Marco tried to ask, but she was suddenly gripping his hand more tightly,holding his eyes with hers.  
Marco got the impression that she would really rather not have to say whatever she was about to tell him.

"I know you love him Marco, and he really does love you, and Rose, but as he is, your Dylan just isn't strong enough to do this on his own. Yes, thanks to you he's not the superficial person he would have been. His faith, while nowhere near as strong as yours, is real, and it will grow.

But if he looses you now, the life the two of you have, self-hatred will cloud everything else out. Rose would have only half a father. She would never see his true face.

No, he wouldn't mistreat her. He would try to hide the emptiness, the bitterness, but she'll be enough like you to know that something is missing, and to blame herself.  
Also like you.

Tears were running down both their cheeks now.

"And she, having no one else she loves as much to pattern herself after, will wall herself off from most of life, and all possibilities of happiness. She will try to become 'tough' enough to be enough for both of them, because her heart will see what he could've been, and she'll love him too."

"Have I made him worse, should I have just let him go, that first time we broke up? Was I wrong Nonna? Should I have made him stay in Switzerland, and finish school later? Did I ruin both their lives?" Marco locked stricken, considering these possibilities.

"Was I just being selfish and spoiled and...!?" Marco looked her in the eye, facing a question that had haunted him for years...but that he'd never allowed himself to think about.  
A thought he'd always shoved away from him as being...an evil thought sent to try and spoil what they seemed to have together.

"Marco! Each of us are a part of our Lord. You were Dylan's first real opportunity to become a the person he should be. Not the only one, just the first. You both made wise choices back then.

If you had gone your separate ways, there would have been others for both of you. But, Marco, to grow into the life he wants now, the life that would be...the least complicated and painful for...both of them, you're the one he needs."

The way she starred into his eyes when she finished, it seemed to Marco, that she was trying to tell him something else;something she knew, but didn't want to have to say.

Marco thought back to the beginning of what she'd said to him.  
Then he got it.  
"You were going to say...only to commit suicide...weren't you?" he asked shock and horror twisting his face.

Her brown eyes were apologetic and filled with sorrow as she nodded squeezing his hand again.

"But then we'd never...!? He'd never...! " Marco dashed the tears from his face and jumped up.  
"I'll kill him! He can't do that to ..." Marco ranted.

But his Nonna was laughing at him as she also stood, reaching for his hand.

"Now that's the Marco I remember! Come, I'll walk you back to...the way back. She was still laughing and her eyes gleamed with pride and hope.

When they came to where the mist curled round the ordinary-sized flowers, she stopped and hugged him; kissing him on both cheeks.  
She stepped back then, patting him on one cheek a she said; "You turned out just fine and I'm so proud of you. You truly are Il mio nipote preferito!"

"Tell my Rosalia:'The strawberries here are as big as apples!'. She'll know who sent that message! Though you may want to tell her while she is sitting down!"  
They laughed together over this.

Marco hugged her again; "I've missed you so much Nonna!"  
"I know my darling, but we will be together again, I miss you too, and I love you all! Thank you so much for my Rosellise!" she kissed her fingers, pressed them to his cheek; "Give her that for me."

Then she pointed back the way he had come...  
There in the middle of the field was a large green door.  
Marco walked toward it.

As his fingers touched the door-knob he heard...  
"We love you Marco!"

He looked back; the beautiful girl was holding the hand of the man with(what he now knew to be) the handle-bar mustache.  
They smiled and waved as the mist closed round them.

As he stepped through the door he was thinking to himself...  
'The nerve, if he thinks I'm going through eternity without him... Like I wouldn't find a way to..'

Marco opened his eyes, and started breathing on his own just as the doctor was getting ready to give up on saving him.  
The nurse with the 'paddles' had already given up, when his heart started and the machine began to beep again.

Everyone jumped a little as all the machines came back on again.

When they all finished gaping at Marco and each other, more tests were ordered and more blood drawn to be tested.  
They didn't seem to want to believe Marco when he told them he felt tired, but otherwise fine.

Finally all of them except for one nurse left to do their tests.

In a few minutes Dylan appeared at the window, and behind the oxygen mask they were unwilling to take off yet, Marco smiled at him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9-A

Tess2645/Kdoc27

Dylan was pushing the door open, walking to the bed; drawn to that smile, the look in those tired but lovely dark eyes.  
It was a look that had nothing to do with hospital beds, doctors, or other people who might come in...or even exist!

Marco pulled the oxygen mask up, letting it sit on his head like a pair of sunglasses.

Dylan slipped his fingers into that now somewhat tangled, dark softness as his lips claimed Marco's.

The heart monitor went berserk!

Nurses came running, only to stop with the door half-open, and just stand there and stare at their patient.  
They couldn't decide whether to be annoyed, or amused!

Finally, Dylan notices all the loud wild beeping of the monitor, and lifts his face to smile (a little smugly) down at Marco.

Marco narrows his eyes at him, but before he can say anything, Dylan takes hold of the hand that had left his(Dylan's) hair to fall back onto the bed curled into an annoyed fist.  
Dylan puts the back of that hand against his chest so Marco can feel the wild thudding of his own heart.

Marco stared up at him, the annoyance fading from his face.  
Turning his hand over, pressing his palm against that thudding; drawing Dylan closer with the look in his eyes as they stared into his mesmerized husbands'.

Dylan's fingertips gently cradled Marco's face, his heart beating even faster.

In that moment, Marco knew...that He was the only thought in Dylan's mind.

Remembering what his grandmother had said,(and knowing she was right) he also remembered all that he'd put this big, strong, wonderful person(who put Him before everything else in his life) through these last few months.

The regret was large and bitter.

Marco kissed Dylan like he intended to make up for all the misery here and now!

Stopping him never even entered Dylan's mind.  
He sank into that kiss, forgetting everything but the feel of Marco's lips beneath his, Marco alive and well enough to smile at him, wanting him enough to kiss him like this...

Hormone induced troubles weren't even a blip on his radar...

Marco had found out where his temper came from years ago; when his parents went through a particularly complicated few months.  
He had feared that they might separate, it had been that bad for a while.  
Some of the arguments so awful; Marco remembered hiding in his room, the pillow over his head: trying to not hear them yelling at each other.

His father had just opened his own garage; but that had at first meant more time spent at work than before, and less 'cash'!

Mrs. Del Rossi hadn't been manager of her section of the drugstore where she works for long.  
The paper-work and meetings, (and one employee who felt the promotion should've gone to Her) made her feel like maybe she'd taken on too much!  
The family needed the extra money right now, but the strain was making it seem like nowhere near enough.

Though Rosalia worried the most, it turned out they both had serious tempers!

That was when Marco found out what a good counselor could do for people who'd just gotten too tangled up in 'Life' to remember to take care of each other...and their love, first.

Father 'Mo had seemed to work miracles between them; that was when his parents had started having their Wednesday 'Movie-Nights'.

Marco would never forget; though he'd surprised even himself when he'd refused to give Dylan another chance unless they got counseling!

At their last session, Fr.'Mo had told them he felt their love would do the rest, but he'd be there for them if they ever needed him.  
And he still was.  
X X X

When they finally broke for air, Dylan had lifted him from the bed(somehow they hadn't disturbed the I.V!) and into his arms.  
Dylan blinked round at the hospital room as if he'd totally forgotten where they were!

Marco pulled his head down, so their foreheads rested together as their breathing returned to normal.  
"My god, Marco!" Dylan panted, swallowing, and trembling a little.  
"Big Jerk!... Love you !" Marco panted back at him through smiling lips.  
"You too...So much..!" Dylan said, easing his husband back down onto the bed, and taking his hand.

Dylan's eyes sparkled as he grinned down at him; "You did it! She's beautiful and perfect and beautiful...!"

At that moment, it all came rushing in/crashing down...on/in Marco...too.

They were squeezing each others' hands, trembling and gasping...like they'd both just run for miles...

Then, suddenly:tears and laughter, yells, whoops, in two languages!  
You'd have thought they were celebrating the end of some sporting event maybe, instead of the birth of a baby!

The proud grandparents tore themselves away from the nursery eventually.

So they were all there with Marco and Dylan when the doctor came back to tell them that apparently Marco is fine and will be moved out of I.C. shortly.

This doctor said that all his tests seemed to show an amazing amount of recovery for so short an amount of time.  
He couldn't understand it, and promised they'd be monitoring Marco very closely for the next few hours.  
He left muttering to himself about 'miracles' under his breath.

Marco only smiled gently and a little secretly.  
He looked up at his mother, who was holding his hand, and the smile widened and brightened till she gave him a questioning look.

Marco got Dylan's attention, and their 'telepathy' must've been working, because without a word, Dylan got everyone to say their goodbyes and head out to see Rosie one more time before leaving the hospital for the evening.

Dylan poked his head back into the room.  
"I'll be back!" he told Marco.  
He could tell him later about using the 'apartment' there till Marco and Rosie were allowed to go home too.

Marco nodded at his husband, then looked at his mom again, still smiling that somewhat mysterious smile.  
"What is it Marco?" she asked a little hesitantly.

"Sit down a minute, o.k. mama?" he asked softly.  
Rosalia frowned a little, but pulled the bed-side chair round so she could sit facing him.  
Marco reached out to her, and she took his hand in both of hers, staring silently, and a little worriedly into his eyes.

Smiling a little, he took a deep breath, and said: "I'm supposed to tell you, and I am quoting here, 'The strawberries here are as big as apples.'"  
"Does that mean any..." Marco stopped when his mother's eyes went large and round with shock!

"Dio mio!" Rosalia exclaimed, crossing herself!  
Marco grinned, laughing and squeezing her hands.  
"Marco, dove hai sentito, come fai a sperlo...!?" She swallowed, trying to catch her breath.  
When his mother had calmed down enough to speak again, she whispered.  
"I used to ask my mother why she liked strawberries so much when apples were so much bigger...but Marco, that was ...I was a little girl then..." she trailed off, looking away from him.  
She seemed to be looking back through the years, and her eyes misted over a little.

Rosalia started suddenly, she stared at Marco; several emotions passed over her face.  
"Marco...is that why...?" she asked.  
"I think so. I had tea with Nonna, and I'm better! Just like..." he looked at his mother, and she, looking back at him, biting her lips, nodded.

"Just like when you had that fever when you were small...and Papa..."  
She held his hand tightly, the tears shining in her eyes, but not falling.  
"Oh my baby!" She let go of his hand, held up a finger as she wiped her eyes. and picked up her purse.

"I bring you something. I thought I'd never...but.." Out of her purse she took a small box; pressing it into Marco's hand she said; "My father made it for me. You loved it as much as I did once. Now your little girl can have it. And mm-maybe, someday..."

She unfastened the clasp and opened the lid.  
Inside the well varnished box decorated with intricate carvings, and lined with now faded velvet, was a hand-made rattle.

Of course, the doctor showed up then, with two nurses.  
They had come to move Marco to a private room.  
Rosalia kissed his forehead.  
"I' see you tomorrow my baby. I love you!" And she was crying again.  
Carmine had waited for her and she went into his arms, whispering through her tears:"Oh Carmie, our baby...has baby!"

It didn't take long to get Marco transferred to a private room.

They told him the I.V. tube and oxygen mask, could be dispensed with unless something went wrong.  
Marco was glad of this, though they still had him connected to the monitors.

He wasn't too crazy about a nurse giving him a sponge-bath either, and was pretty sure he wasn't hungry either...

Till he took the first couple of bites!

Though he'd never liked hospital food, Marco had to admit that the soup, salad, and roasted chicken weren't too bad.  
The chocolate mousse tasted entirely too strange, but the herbal tea was just fine.

Marco nodded off before finishing his tea.

When Dylan came to the room, the gentle smile on his sleeping husbands face made him smile too, even as his eyes misted, and he had to swallow a couple of times to get the lump out of his throat.

Dylan's fingers trailed lightly down Marco's cheek.  
"I love you ..." he whispered as he pressed his lips gently to his forehead.  
He stared at this face that would be gone again when the weight started to come off.  
It was so like the face he'd first fallen in love with...

Dylan had loved watching Marco sleep since the first time they'd fallen asleep watching movies together.

It had happened at Dylan's house one Saturday-night.

Dylan's parents were out, and so was Paige.

The boys had put the couch cushions on the floor, and were sharing a bowl of popcorn.  
Soon they were sharing one of the big overstuffed cushions; Marco's back against Dylan's warm chest.

Dylan woke up curled round Marco like he was some life-sized teddy-bear!

The older boy had eased back gently, trying not to wake new...friend?...'crush'..?

He stared down at him; the slightly parted dark-pink, almost red lips(his tongue slid over his own lips, as he remembered the sensation of kissing those lips)the wonder of those so dark curling lashes against that lovely skin, with it's 'permanent-tan'.

Dylan rarely allowed himself to get really involved with anyone, when it started to feel like it might get serious, he usually ran...

But this boy...  
Was just...different somehow.  
This slide so easy...so natural.  
Dylan might have been lost from day-one!

Looking at Marco now, he had to admit, he never seen anything more beautiful.

Now, in this cold, clinical room; Dylan pulls the chair over, sits with it turned round, so he can rest his arm across the back of it, his chin on that arm, and just stares...

Surrendering to the still intoxicating enchantment that is watching Marco sleep.

Dylan, in a state almost like meditation, close to dropping off himself, when he has an idea...

9B:

Marco woke feeling well rested and...excited!?

He felt almost like when you wake on the first day of summer break...or maybe more like..  
Yeah, like his birthday.  
No, that still didn't feel like it.

Christmas.  
That's it!  
Marco felt like he used to on Christmas morning when he was a kid!

He laughed when he realized this, and saying a quick few words to his Lord(sure he found this pretty amusing too)sat up and stretched...or started to...

The taped-on patches, that connected him to the monitors quickly reminded him where he was,when they pulled at the hairs on his chest!

Blinking round at the room, confused him for a minute, because it didn't look like a hospital room.

Then he remembered...

The 'living module' that had been set up for couples who had a really hard time with the process, and needed to be at the hospital so much that it was simpler to just move them in.

Marco had only seen this place once; they had shown it to him and Dylan as part of the tour, way back when they were starting the injections phase of things.

There were cameras everywhere.  
Dylan had said no way they'd ever use it.  
Said he couldn't imagine keeping his hands off him for that long.

But what was he doing here?

Rose was here.  
They'd done it, she had been born and..

That was it!  
That's why he feels like it's Christmas!

But...what was he doing here?  
Then, he began to be aware of the deep,aching soreness bellow his belly, and wondered if something else had gone wrong.

Was he bleeding inside?  
Had the left something inside him?  
Would there have to be another operation before he could get out of here?

Marco clenched his fists, closed his eyes,and took a deep breath.  
"Stop it! Just get a grip!" he muttered to himself through clenched teeth.  
'They don't take you out of intensive care unless you're better, a whole lot more than 'better' actually' he thought to himself.

Marco glanced over at the bed next to his; saw that it had been slept in.  
'So where..'  
Before he could complete that thought, the door opened on Dylan.  
He was pushing a cart with their breakfast and a vase of daffodils on it!

"Morning, 'Poppa'!"Dylan said grinning at him, and handing him the cup of tea.  
Yeah, Clove/Peppermint!  
Dylan wouldn't even consider trying it,said it smelled like old socks!  
But it tasted good on Marco!

They weren't going to unhook Marco from all those monitors just so he could brush his teeth(he still refused to do it in bed and have to spit into a bedpan)but Dylan wanted a kiss Now!

Marco rolled his eyes at Dylan; who held his nose as Marco rinsed his mouth with the tea.  
He'd barely swallowed, and Dylan was there, lips covering his, hands holding onto his face so he could kiss him thoroughly.

When Dylan released him, Marco licked his lips, and smirked a little; looking at Dylan through his lashes as he said: "I think you missed a spot..."  
"No problem!" Dylan replied, and quickly claimed his mouth again!

Pulling back the second time, Dylan pointed a finger at his grinning husband:  
"Now eat! No stalling! " he commanded."They're gonna bring Our Daughter in here as soon as we're done."  
He seemed to be,(if that was possible) in even more of a hurry to see Rose, than Marco was.

Dylan pushed the cart over to the bed, depositing Marco's half of the food, along with the flowers on the tray-table.  
Uncovering his own plate, Dylan wasted no time getting started.

"Dyl!?" Marco exclaimed before he got the first bite to his mouth.  
His husband, who was wolfing his food down at an alarming rate, pointed at the bed-side table.

The little box was there, where Marco could reach it easily.

Marco grabbed a handful of Dylan's shirt, pulling him over and kissing his greasy lips!

Dylan almost choked, happiness exploding inside his chest...filling him up.

'God, this is so PERFECT... And now there's... We're REALLY a ...FAMILY!' he thought, staring into the eyes of his amazing...incredible... one:

Marco woke feeling well rested and...excited!?

He felt almost like when you wake on the first day of summer break...or maybe more like..  
Yeah, like his birthday.  
No, that still didn't feel like it.

Christmas.  
That's it!  
Marco felt like he used to on Christmas morning when he was a kid!

He laughed when he realized this, and saying a quick few words to his Lord(sure he found this pretty amusing too)sat up and stretched...or started to...

The taped-on patches, that connected him to the monitors quickly reminded him where he was,when they pulled at the hairs on his chest!

Blinking round at the room, confused him for a minute, because it didn't look like a hospital room.

Then he remembered...

The 'living module' that had been set up for couples who had a really hard time with the process, and needed to be at the hospital so much that it was simpler to just move them in.

Marco had only seen this place once; they had shown it to him and Dylan as part of the tour, way back when they were starting the injections phase of things.

There were cameras everywhere.  
Dylan had said no way they'd ever use it.  
Said he couldn't imagine keeping his hands off him for that long.

But what was he doing here?

Rose was here.  
They'd done it, she had been born and..

That was it!  
That's why he feels like it's Christmas!

But...what was he doing here?  
Then, he began to be aware of the deep,aching soreness bellow his belly, and wondered if something else had gone wrong.

Was he bleeding inside?  
Had the left something inside him?  
Would there have to be another operation before he could get out of here?

Marco clenched his fists, closed his eyes,and took a deep breath.  
"Stop it! Just get a grip!" he muttered to himself through clenched teeth.  
'They don't take you out of intensive care unless you're better, a whole lot more than 'better' actually' he thought to himself.

Marco glanced over at the bed next to his; saw that it had been slept in.  
'So where..'  
Before he could complete that thought, the door opened on Dylan.  
He was pushing a cart with their breakfast and a vase of daffodils on it!

"Morning, 'Poppa'!"Dylan said grinning at him, and handing him the cup of tea.  
Yeah, Clove/Peppermint!  
Dylan wouldn't even consider trying it,said it smelled like old socks!  
But it tasted good on Marco!

They weren't going to unhook Marco from all those monitors just so he could brush his teeth(he still refused to do it in bed and have to spit into a bedpan)but Dylan wanted a kiss Now!

Marco rolled his eyes at Dylan; who held his nose as Marco rinsed his mouth with the tea.  
He'd barely swallowed, and Dylan was there, lips covering his, hands holding onto his face so he could kiss him thoroughly.

When Dylan released him, Marco licked his lips, and smirked a little; looking at Dylan through his lashes as he said: "I think you missed a spot..."  
"No problem!" Dylan replied, and quickly claimed his mouth again!

Pulling back the second time, Dylan pointed a finger at his grinning husband:  
"Now eat! No stalling! " he commanded."They're gonna bring Our Daughter in here as soon as we're done."  
He seemed to be,(if that was possible) in even more of a hurry to see Rose, than Marco was.

Dylan pushed the cart over to the bed, depositing Marco's half of the food, along with the flowers on the tray-table.  
Uncovering his own plate, Dylan wasted no time getting started.

"Dyl!?" Marco exclaimed before he got the first bite to his mouth.  
His husband, who was wolfing his food down at an alarming rate, pointed at the bed-side table.

The little box was there, where Marco could reach it easily.

Marco grabbed a handful of Dylan's shirt, pulling him over and kissing his greasy lips!

Dylan almost choked, happiness exploding inside his chest...filling him up.

'God... This is so PERFECT...

And now there's...

We're REALLY a ...FAMILY!' he thought, staring into the eyes of his amazing...incredible...Marco.

There was a tap on the door.

Dylan shot up from where he was sitting on the bed nest to Marco;but his grip on his husband's hand tightened.

A smiling nurse eased the door open...

Dylan glanced down at Marco.

The blush on Marco's cheeks deepened, his eyes were wide; the sparkle in them more like two tiny suns than ever.  
Marco opened his mouth...closed it...swallowed...squeezed Dylan's hand..and then let go of it.

The hospital crib was just a box on wheels, but inside this one, wrapped in her bright yellow blanket, was their own little miracle!

The orderly pushed the crib close to the bed.

Marco reached out with both hands without even realizing he was doing it...

Dylan would've sworn neither of them breathed as the nurse lifted the baby and handed her to the father who had given birth to her.

Marco knew without having to be told...exactly how to take hold of her.  
No one had to show him where to place his hands...or caution him about his grip or...anything.  
He took little Rose from the nurse and cradled her in his arms as if he'd done this a thousand times...

Marco held their daughter against his chest; carefully he moved the blanket away from her face...  
He did not smile.

The joy on his face was a deep, but...somehow solemn...almost reverent thing.

With finger tips he touched the thin dark-auburn curls, ran a finger over the tiny hands that were curled tightly under her chin.

When he finally lifted his face, looked up at Dylan; he was smiling...though tears coursed down his cheeks.

Dylan sat down on the bed wrapping his arm round Marco.  
He kissed the top of his head, and when Marco looked up at him again, smiling so gently and serenely through his steadily falling tears;he tried to brush them away with his finger tips.

looking up at Dylan with a million things in his eyes, Marco reached to brush tears off his husband's face as well, kissing his cheek...  
Dylan's whole body started to shake then, as he broke completely, wrapping his other arm round Marco's waist and holding on as he cried with him.

So now we are three.  
When Rosie wakes in the night so do we.

Marco says I wake at her first sniffle.  
Like I've always done for him...

Then we often argue through the bottle heating,; about who's turn it is to feed her!

I am also proud to say my diaper changing is perfectly fine now, just in case you heard otherwise.

I didn't know it was possible to love anything this much...or more to love two people so much, just not in the same way...  
I'd rather die than let either of them down.

But what it took to get our Rosie here...!  
When she starts asking about a little brother to play with...  
No matter how long it takes, we'll Adopt!


End file.
